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[Price Fifty Cents. 


0 woiiiiii of soiet. 


A NARRATIVE. 


By 

ANTHONY GOULD. 


THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 
PUBLISHER’S AGENTS, 

NEW YORK. 



o 


A WOMAN OF SOREK 




BY 



ANTHONY GOULD. 



\ 


SUPPLIED TO THE TRADE 
BY 

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 
39 Chambers Street, 

New York. 





COPYRIGHT 1889, 

BY 

ANTHONY GOULD. 

[all rights resbrved.] 


New York : 

WYNKOOP & IIALLENBECK, PRINTERS, 
No. 121 Fulton Street. 


TO 

'S^altcv* |,vuttt0 ^i0elow. 


Quo non praestantior a/ter.’ 




A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


CHAPTER I. 

No sound broke the soft summer silence, save the 
twitter of the birds, the wooing of the wind as it kissed 
the leaves and bent in loving embrace the tender little 
twigs, and the murmur of the kine lowing in the distant 
fields. The old Seminary on the brow of the hill, gray 
with the moss of years, slept in the radiance of the 
glowing sunshine, as if long since lulled into an eternal 
lethargy by the somniferous theology that had always 
been taught within its sacred walls. So, too, slumbered 
the little village in the valley below, as if fanned by the 
wings of the Angel of Death. The river stole through 
the meadows, rich with the changing hues of green and 
of gold, until it became a silver thread in the embroid- 
ery of nature’s mantle. While around about the hori- 
zon, caressing the fleecy clouds, and nourishing their 
fleeting shadows, arose the wooded hills and the frown- 
ing Mountain, guardians of the vale and bulwarks 
against the sweeping and swelling waves of the world 
beyond. 

A robin chirps noisily as if in indignant surprise ; a 
squirrel dances along the wired fence and perches sau- 
cily upon a favoring bough, with its round glossy head 
held upon one side, and its bright twinkling eyes peer- 
ing inquiringly, as a step resounds upon the smooth 
stone walk, and from the angle of the building slowly 


4 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


moves a tall monastic figure ; monastic in garb which 
is sombre and dismal, with long and flowing skirts ; 
monastic in face which is pale and beardless and wan, 
as if through prayer and watching and fasting. A young 
man it is, though, for the step, while measured is firm 
and determined, and the stiff and coarse fabric of the 
dress fails to conceal the broad and commanding out- 
lines of the form. There is a lurking fire in his eye, 
however calm its gaze may be, while his closely crop- 
ped hair curls tightly to his head, which is as classic in 
its mouldings as that of the young Antinous. 

A certain undefined rigidity and awkwardness in his 
garb and carriage distinguished him, which betokened 
lack of contact with the world and absorbing self-con- 
sciousness. Then, too, there was an air of carefulness 
and of primness about him which seemed to be an 
identical and natural characteristic ; and which was 
evidenced in his white tie of most orthodox fashion and 
precise fold, in his perfectly polished hat and gaiters, 
and in the absolutely dustless condition of his clothing. 
His appearance might denote the fortitude of a martyr ; 
it would never indicate the abnegation of a hermit. 

As he strode along with the dragging and monoto- 
nous regularity of an automaton, he was intently con- 
ning the pages of a book which he held widely spread 
open before him. It was a dainty little book, with rich 
levant binding, upon which was stamped a gilded cross, 
and he solicitously flecked away a particle of a decayed 
leaf that had fallen upon it. As he reached the broad 
expanse of the main approach, he paused and mur- 
mured : 

“ Oh, most rare and holy A’Kempis, may I, like 
thee, penetrate the veil and worship face to face with 
the Eternal ! Oh, foolish mortals devoid of all under- 
standing, who barter a heavenly crown for the tinselled 
bauble of the moment ! ” 


A WOMAN OF SOI^EA\ 


5 


He felt that he could look forth upon the world and 
see all mankind wallowing in wickedness, and plung- 
ing towards destruction ; that only within his own en- 
vironment, within the old Seminary walls, could safety 
and a sure refuge be found ; and while he thought his 
lamentations to be sincere, they were far less intense 
than his comfortable sense and assurance that his own 
particular calling and election were sure. He clasped 
his precious volume within his folded hands, and his 
eyes rolled upwards towards the fathomless blue. An 
ecstasy seized him as with reverent tones and in rhap- 
sody he exclaimed : 

“Oh, blessed lot to commune with God, to dwell 
with his saints in holy unity of thought and purpose I 
Keep me pure, O, Lord, and meet for thy sacred ser- 
vice ! ” 

The skies lightened into transparency, the hills van- 
ished in smoke and in mist, and his soul leapt beyond 
its terrestrial confines, and mingled with joys supernal 
and celestial. To him, life, which permeated every 
vein of his healthful young body and sparkled beneath 
the pallor of his cheek, which invigorated the air and 
attuned the birds, and brightened the verdure in the 
blaze of the fecund heat, was but a dismal dream that 
too long delayed a glorious awakening. And for the 
moment he believed it, or at least he thought that he 
believed it. But sincerity towards one’s self is tested 
not by revery but by deeds. While fond imagination 
is decking him with the grace and purity and spiritual- 
ity which Saint John found- amid the crags and billows 
of Patmos, upon the shaded road in the rear of the Sem- 
inary, that furnished the most direct route from dormi- 
tories to boarding-houses, and whose gravelled walk 
was consequently well beaten by travel, as pretty a bit 
of genre as the longest summer day could afford, may 
be seen. Clad in dainty white, with here and there a 


6 


A WOMAN OF FORRK. 


spark of scarlet as effective and as startling as the gleam 
of a flamingo’s wing among the flaxen osiers, a young 
girl glides along, with step as light as that of Cytheria 
as she dances upon the foam of the sea. 

The sun rays kiss her tenderly, not warmly; as Parian 
marble is kissed before it appreciates the love of Phoebus. 
The breeze toys with her golden tresses, almost flame- 
like in their brilliancy, and lingers within their silken 
coils, as might the fingers of a lover. She enters the 
park which surrounds the building and adorns the brow 
of the hill, and slowly passes down the walk of flags, 
regarding with a delight akin to passion the landscape 
outspread before her, and but disdainfully glancing 
towards the plain brick walls and the battered storm 
worn shutters. No dream of the ideal expands her soul. 
The horizon is her limitation. She revels in the’ 
warmth and light and joyousness of nature, and in the 
conviction that hers is life with all of its possibilities of 
youth, health, and beauty. The buoyancy of her spirits 
she does not analyze, for analysis would bewilder her 
mind and yield no compensating pleasure ; but like the 
lamb that gambols in the field, or the kitten that chases 
its shadow, she is conscious of it and that is sufficient. 

Suddenly she stops, not as Diana would pause with 
hearing intent as the faintest ^olian breath wafts past 
her the suspicion of the baying of her hounds ; nor as 
the fawn would hesitate upon the brink of the precipice 
before venturing the leap that would elude the hunter ; 
but quickly, abruptly, violently, so violently as to nearly 
overcome her natural poise, so violently as to banish 
for the moment grace by awkwardness. Her face 
flushed and then paled, as glows and then dims the 
moon as it passes a break in the clouds, and she uttered 
a low exclamation of pain. Her foot had caught in the 
space between two of the flags which had unevenly 
spread apart, leaving a narrowing opening similar in 


A WOMAN OF SORE A\ 


7 

shape to the frog of a railroad track, and there remained 
fixed and immovable. Try as best she could, she could 
not extricate herself, so she finally desisted from further 
attempt, and fair as a nymph imprisoned by the sands, 
she stood motionless in quiet resignation. 

“ Perhaps this is a trap to protect the hapless theolo- 
gians from any attack of the world, the flesh, and 
so forth, set by their masters bristling with the armor of 
age and of sanctity,'’ she mused, as she merrily glanced 
towards the building. The flash of her sparkling blue 
eyes like the blaze from a deeper-hued heaven met the 
gaze of the young student. His frame trembled as from 
a shock. He recovered his consciousness and turned 
towards her. She gravely waved her parasol in signal 
of distress. A shade of annoyance darkened his face as 
he approached her. Were his holy reveries and right- 
eous desires to be disturbed by that most frivolous and 
worldly of all worldly objects a woman ? A creature re- 
pugnant to the most devout of the saints, marred by the 
original sin, and vouchsafed only doubtful honors through 
divine motherhood ? The temptress, whose history from 
Eve to Delilah, and from Delilah to the daughter of Hero- 
dias teems with fatality to the soul ? So he had thought as 
he had read his Chrysostom and nodded his convictions 
and assent during the long winter evenings in the com- 
fortable seclusion of his room, before the logs that blazed 
in the recesses of his old-fashioned fireplace and light- 
ened the shadows cast by his flickering lamp, and so 
thought he now. Yet so fair was the vision that stood 
before him and seemed to look down upon him not- 
withstanding his superior height ; so calm and effulgent 
its gaze ; so serene and virginal its face ; so matchless 
in curve and willowy outline its form ; that he sprang 
forward in confusion, his thoughts speeding away and 
hiding themselves in shame. 

For Marcia Clenton’s beauty was flower-like in its 


8 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


immaculateness. She seemed to be the reflection of 
purity. Through her deep, steadfast eyes the light of 
God seemed to penetrate. Her face was that of the 
Christian martyr around whose brow already shines the 
glory of the Aureola. Her form was that of the dryad, 
lithe and sinuous and intoxicating in its perfection of 
rounding grace. “Sir” said she, and her voice thrilled 
the air like the tone of mellow chime wrought by cun- 
ning Spanish hand and ripened in mossy cloister. 
“I am a captive in a strange land. My feet have not 
fallen into pleasant places. May I crave your assist- 
ance ? ” 

He knelt before her, he, whose knees had only peni- 
tence known, and the hand that held the sacred thoughts 
of A’Kempis, now encircled the little foot as he strove 
in vain to press it from its prison. A dainty little boot 
it was, well made and strong, as proudly arched as the 
neck of a Flemish charger, and set upon a heel as high 
and as stately as that which e’er adorned the outbent 
step of courtly dame in minuet, 

‘ ‘ I fear that I cannot help you unless I unlace it, ” he 
hesitatingly said. 

Confidingly and with all the composure of uncon- 
sciousness, she leant towards him and rested her hand 
upon his shoulder, like a queen conferring the accolade 
upon an humble champion. His fingers trembled and 
the nerves at the corners of his mouth jumped and 
twitched, as he awkwardly brushed the draperies aside 
and caught a glimpse of pale lilac clocks that on the 
sable web shone like twin stars. 

The air seemed to grow dense with a faint, indescrib- 
ably sweet perfume ; and, as he held her foot unshod 
within the hollow of his palm, the warmth of her body 
seemed to pervade his being. For an instant, an irre- 
sistible impulse seized him to press it to his face, to his 
lips. Then the forces of long years of self-containment 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


9 

and sobriety and obligatory routine asserted their power 
and mastery. Deep shame curtained his cheek. With 
downcast gaze, and with all the gentleness and delicacy 
of touch of a mother towards the infant whom she is 
adorning, he replaced the offending gear, laced it, and 
then, rising to his feet, bowed with the grave courtesy 
of an ecclesiastic who had heard and absolved the petty 
sins of a fashionable penitent. 

But as he turned to enter the Seminary he noticed 
that she did not stir, he feared lest her foot might be 
badly strained and he thought that in her face he read a 
prayer for aid. 

“May I not assist you.?” he asked, extending his 
arm from which the ample sleeve of clerical black hung 
in stiff and angular folds. She placed her little hand 
upon it, and as it cuddled there like a bird at rest, for 
the first time he experienced a feeling of distaste towards 
his austere appearance. They slowly moved down the 
hill in the direction of the village, now and again paus- 
ing to allow her to rest. 

“My name is Marcia Clenton,” she began, “and I 
am visiting my aunt Mrs. Clenton, whose house you 
must know, she has so many of the Academy boys 
with her as boarders, and they are such fun. And 
you ? ” 

“I am Jonas Chidsy, a poor student of theology. 
My life is that of a recluse. It is seldom that I speak 
with a lady, and I possess none of the elegancies of the 
world. I fear that you will find me uncouth and un- 
feeling to your needs. ” As he uttered his name, a sus- 
picion of amused surprise broke the earnestness of her 
mien. 

“Why, then, you know my cousin Naomi ! I have so 
often heard her speak of you. If you could only realize 
all that she has said about you, you would not be so 
huHible, But perhaps it is an air that you assume,” 


lO 


A WOMAN OF SOFEA\ 


“It is most heartfelt I assure you. Your cousin has 
honored me with great kindness. She belongs to the 
village sewing-circle of Christian women, who appre- 
ciate the necessities of our student life, and who seek to 
alleviate them. In that way I have been her particular 
charge. Then, too, she encouraged me once when I was 
in danger of public failure through nervous dread, by 
her smile of friendly confidence, and I can never forget 
it But our paths have been separate, and I remember 
her only as the pilgrim remembers the one who gave to 
him the cup of cold water, but who still climbs the 
heights of his lonely way. ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, how I admire you self-devoted heroes ! ” she 
exclaimed, “and how your fidelity shames my fickle 
aimless life ! What possibilities of soul culture stretch 
out before you, while we adorn the body and starve the 
spirit ! Would that I could hide myself in some holy 
retreat and nurture my truer nature through prayer and 
contemplation ! Oh, Mr. Chidsy, it is the limitations 
of this age, the iron restrictions of past ages, that bind 
me ! I am fettered by prejudice and tradition, by the 
absurd distinctions of sex, by fashion and custom, yes, 
and by the usages of religion itself ! ” Her eyes mois- 
tened as they sought his in sympathy. A gentle 
color ebbed and flowed beneath her cheeks, like the 
blush of the east before dawn. As Jonas looked upon 
her, he recalled Milton’s “II Penseroso” — that divine 
maiden — and these lines that so fittingly harmonized 
with her : 

“ With even step, and musing gait 
And looks commercing with the skies 
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.” 

Her words exhilarated him with the poison of flattery. 
His self-regard was strengthened by her evident re- 
spect and interest. He had always believed that his 
thoughts were striking, and that his vocabulary was 


A JVOMA.V OF SOFEA\ 


II 


rich arid expressive ; and he had often bemoaned the 
lack of a listener. Now he possessed one, who charmed 
away embarrassment and enlisted courage. He rolled 
his words beneath his tongue with the utmost unction, 
his head assuming an argumentative poise and his finger 
emphasizing his earnestness. “It is my firm convic- 
tion, a conviction which my research into ecclesiastical 
lore has verified, that our church is not now the foster- 
ing mother, especially to your sex, that she was in the 
earlier days. Her care and watchfulness then were in- 
cessant Her broad bosom ever afforded sacred shelter. 
Now she has dwarfed into a creature of incident She 
lacks personality, and her appeals are both sentimental 
and rational, but not soulful. Even we churchmen are 
far too worldly. We should be a class set apart and 
consecrated, unknowing the sins and turmoils of earth 
save through the holy confessional. But no, we partic* 
ipate in every social pleasure, we marry, we market, 
we vote and become heated in political controversies, 
as though, instead of being servants of God, we were 
employes of an institution. ” 

“ Your belief then tends towards ritualism .? 

“ I believe that the old forms are the best. That 
holy men and martyrs did not live and die in vain. 
That every symbol has its incarnate and spiritual mean- 
ing and must not through ignorance be rejected. I be- 
lieve that the soul is capable of growth, and that it is 
only through its cultivation' that we can properly con- 
template the majestic beauties of the one church of all 
ages. " 

His words seemed to deeply stir Marcia’s emotional 
nature. Her hand tightened upon his arm, and he felt 
her form press closer to him. She raised her eyes and 
then lowered them as if in uncertainty, and her voice 
was low and broken by hesitation. 

“ Will you not help me to increase in spirituality.? 


12 


A WOMAN OF SOREIC. 


May I not consider you my earthly mediator ? You 
can benefit me so much, you are so wise and good and 
I am so weak and inexperienced. While I am here in 
Armway, be my adviser, my confessor, I am a mother- 
less girl, giddy and impulsive, and I need you. ” 

Jonas was swept by a flood of varying sensations. 
His vanity was stimulated, his confidence exalted. 
How he had ever misjudged and depreciated himself. 
Surely power and attraction must reside within, since 
he has been sought as “ an earthly mediator ” — how 
sublime the phrase — by a young and beautiful girl, 
whose zeal almost reached agitation. Pride in his holy 
calling, and in the distinction with which it had clothed 
him, inflated him. Then his thoughts as he had ap- 
proached her recurred to him and confused him. Un- 
doubtedly the holy fathers would never have included 
in their condemnation of all womankind, so fair, so 
ethereal, so perfect a being. Her place should be with 
St. Cecilia and St. Agnes, and he would be her canonizer. 
How tender and languishing had been her words ‘‘ I 
need you.” Could it be — no, he would not imagine it. 
He would do his duty. Before it all quibbles of sex and 
age must vanish. The true priest was epicene. His 
voice trembled as though the fingers of fate were tug- 
ging at his throat as he spoke : 

“ Most unworthy am I, a simple lowly student, to 
receive your confidences or to render you admonition. 
Life, even to me, though I labor and pray, seems a laby- 
rinth, and the cord running through it oftens breaks 
and is with difficulty regained. Yet if in the darkness 
I am called to stretch forth my hand, I must do so.” 

I love to walk upon the river bank towards Simp- 
ington. The waters ripple at your feet in friendly con- 
versation. Some times a fish leaps upwards as if envy- 
ing the sun, and decks the air with diamonds. While 
the drifting clouds in their reflection give expression to 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


13 


the stream. Then, too, there are rustic seats and nooks 
upon the mossy banks, quite hid by the alders and the 
willows, the favored haunts of contemplation. There I 
will go with you when you will, for the restful quiet 
and calm beauty must adduce spiritual communion. 
And now I must say good-bye to you, until your duties 
can yield you to this new duty ; for, as you see, we have 
reached my destination. I thank you for your assist- 
ance and brotherly sympathy.” 

The little hand glided with electric thrills along his 
arm, lingered for an instant upon his wrist, and then sur- 
rendered to the eagerness of his grasp. Her eyes, tender 
with deep blue star-light, spoke a regretful farewell, and 
thus she left him. 

As Jonas, perplexed yet most happy, retraced his steps, 
it seemed to him as though cycles of time had revolved 
and wheeled into chaos, since from the brow of the hill 
he had seen the heavens separate and disclose celestial 
glories. He realized that within himself a mighty 
change had been wrought. His life had gained a new 
interest, and had lost its exclusiveness. Its horizon had 
broadened. His selfishness had enlarged, and now em- 
braced two personalities. He was conscious also that 
within him there was a conflict between duty and desire, 
each striving to control his meditations. ‘ How good, 
how pure she is,” he thought “ How can I help her, 
for what help can she need? For the lily knows no 
blemish and the pearl no blight Yet it comforts her 
loneliness to trust and confide, and most faithful shall 
she find me.” 

He had entered his room and was slowly pacing to 
and fro in the intentness of his reflection. The walls 
were lined with long cases filled to overflowing with 
books, whose uneven arrangement denoted the use of a 
student It was a scholarly library, selected with dis- 
crimination, and expressed with infallibility its owner’s 


14 


A WOMAA^ OF 


inclinations and prejudices. Thus, while the works of 
modern theologians and tractists were not absent, dusty 
tomes of black-letter, and time-molded leather bindings, 
and ponderous clasps, the sacred writings of Tertullian, 
and St. Chrysostom, and Eusebius, and Justine, and St. 
Augustine, and Gregory of Nyssia, those old fathers 
whose teachings had so thoroughly influenced his intel- 
lectual development, greatly prevailed. So, too, like a 
protecting genius, there was enshrined upon the case a 
bust of marble, mutilated by the blows of years, which 
had been brought to him by a friend from Rome, and 
was supposed to represent the head of St. Anthony. 

His mental struggle continued and his thoughts re- 
fused to longer concentrate within the limits which duty 
had set. The memory of the warm hand upon his shoul- 
der, the little foot within his palm, the dazzling clocks, 
the faint delicious perfume, and the intoxicating pressure 
of that dependent form triumphantly and irresistibly 
flashed across his mind. He glanced towards the effigy 
of the old monk, whose battered features seemed to in- 
dicate menace and warning. 

“ Alas ! ” he cried, “Has thy temptation, O Saint, re- 
visited me ? ” Horror and shame and despair swept over 
his face like battalions rushing upon the plains to victory. 
He flung himself upon his knees and sought oblivion in 
prayer. 

As Marcia entered her aunt’s house, her step quickened 
and her lameness disappeared. The demure lines 
about her lips relaxed into a quiet smile of amusement. 
The table in the hall was piled with hats and coats, 
commingled with bats, rackets, balls and books. From 
the rear parlor where the boys were accustomed to 
gather before the pleasurable anticipations which hun- 
ger conjured were smothered by grim reality, loud 
laughter re-echoed. A fresh, clear voice, full of youth 
and merriment and strength, arose in the old song; 


A WOMAN' OF SOREK. 


15 


“ I wish I had a barrel of rum, 

Of sugar, three hundred pounds.” 

An unbidden flush deepened the glow of her cheek, 
and her eyes sparkled with delight. She tripped lightly 
through the hall, and joining in the refrain “ A son of a 
Gambolier,’’ danced into the room and disappeared be- 
yond its portals 


i6 


A WOMAN OF SOIiEA 


CHAPTER II. 

When, a quarter of a century before the occurrence of 
those events which have been narrated in the preceding 
chapter, the father of Jonas Chidsy who had graduated 
from one of the most iron-bound seminaries that Puritan 
thrift had ever dedicated, had preached before a select 
committee of fathers in Israel, had won their grave com- 
mendations, and had received what he and they both 
termed a ^ ^ call ” to the one Congregational church of 
Stanfield, he found that venerable institution whose 
beams had been the first timber that the virgin forest 
had yielded to the white despoiler, in a sad state of sloth 
and apathy. The old white-haired clergyman, whose 
trembling hands had been upraised over the heads of 
father and son and grandson, had sunk into the calm that 
precedes eternal rest His belief in old things had be- 
come intensified. He loved the old hymns, each one of 
which recalled to him a notable spiritual victory. He 
loved his old sermons. Their blots and thumb marks 
renewed within his recollection the painful labor of his 
sturdy manhood. He believed that he had hewn closely 
and well, and that the results of his care were still vital 
and forceful. So to the middle-aged and those who had 
journeyed at equal pace with him, service under his 
ministrations had become a communion with the past ; 
delightful and restful to them, but to the younger genera- 
tion, who desired all of the excitement that the narrow 
confines of their surroundings could produce, distaste- 
ful and devoid of all interest. Consequently, when the 
old pastor dozed away one evening in the comfortable 
arm chair in his study, and deep peace wrapped her 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


17 

mantle of oblivion about him forever, there was a de- 
mand for a radical change in the policy and conduct of 
the church, and like all demands for the novel and 
different, it was omnipotent. 

James Chidsy came to the village, a young man, tall 
and gaunt, with closely-shaven face deeply lined by 
meditation, great masses of shaggy black hair rolled 
aggressively above his broad bulging forehead, and 
dark eyes of strange power and earnestness ; eyes that 
penetrated all mannerisms and reserve, and deciphered 
the imprints of character upon the heart. They shone forth 
with that mysterious force which is given to some nat- 
ures as a sixth sense and enables them to dominate over 
others. When he spoke he was heard. Sleep deserted 
the righteous whose Sabbatical slumbers had for years 
been unbroken and profound. The voice of the prophet 
was heard in the land, and its clarion notes rang atten- 
tion in every ear. A realization of the awfulness of life, 
of its hopeless struggles and of the certainty of death 
settled like a pall upon the agitated villagers. ‘ ‘ What 
must I do to be saved .? ” was the question that sought 
and demanded a sure answer. Shrieks of entreaty, storms 
of denunciations and anathema, luscious visions of the 
joys of a material paradise banished lethargy and aroused 
hope, and fear, and despair, and agony, and all the violent 
passions that sweep like cyclones through the hearts of 
men. Prayer-meetings, and watch-meetings, and special 
seasons, and preparatory lectures succeeded one another 
with such rapidity that their echoes almost commingled ; 
and the rafters of the church had no opportunity to set- 
tle into the inertia of the past. A revival had been, at 
the new pastor s coming, at once successfully inaugurat- 
ed, and it devastated the normal calm of the parishioners 
as a conflagration would their property, or an epidemic 
their lives. Business was neglected, pleasure hid her 
smiles behind a veil of woe, while repentance and 


8 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


lamentation a stout and trusty guard, daily marched a 
horde of captives to the altar. 

As light-hearted, as joyous and as free as a wild flower 
in the forest glade, had ever been Alice Guendale. She 
was an only child, and her fame as an heiress had ex- 
tended beyond the bounds of the stage route. Her life 
had enjoyed perpetual sunshine, never overcast by dis- 
may or dread or care, which were words that denoted 
sensations unexperienced to her. She loved God as she 
loved her parents, simply, sincerely, naturally. A love 
that was capable of no analysis, that admitted of no dis- 
tinctions, yet that had until now sufficed to surround her 
with perfect faith. At first she heard the preacher with 
commiserating wonder. Then his force bewildered and 
blinded her. She was fragile in constitution, lymphatic 
intendencies, and his vitality overpowered her as might 
have a potent incense. The governing flash of his eye 
with its wilful magnetism, the sonorous roll of his voice, 
the vibration of his hand upheld in prophecy or maledic- 
tion, fascinated her. Terror consumed her soul and 
haunted the weary nights which sleep had deserted. 
Upon all sides appeared pit-falls and shapeless darkness. 
The future alone flamed, but its light was that of de- 
struction. All those upon whom she had depended 
seemed to be stricken with the palsy of panic. Alone 
in the dreadful turmoil, calm as demi-god, the new 
pastor remained self-contained with outstretched arms 
and broad protecting breast, offering safe refuge to the 
storm-driven sheep. 

At length the tide turned, the waves though masterful 
crept no farther, and despite their dash and roar, its sul- 
len retreat could be read upon the quivering sands. 
Passion is transitory; else reason would become its in- 
evitable victim. The little village slept again after the 
storm, and exhaustion deepened its slumbers. The 
fields were gladdened by the toil of the husbandman. 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


t9 

the heavy-uddered cOw yielded plenteously to the activ- 
ity of the dairy, the quilting bees awakened gossip and 
the evening lounging at the store evoked mild dissipa- 
tion. The fruition of that blessed season had transpired, 
and its results were manifest in a uniformly greater at- 
tendance at worship, and a longer roll of the faithful 
upon which the black mark of backsliding was already 
becoming apparent. Its influence upon the pastor’s life 
however was permanently signified. Strange it was 
that he who had moved by the energies of his hidden 
power had been most affected. Yet a change in his en- 
vironment had been wrought ; for within the ugly brick 
walls of the parsonage now listlessly existed a quiet 
pallid wife, whose form was the form of Alice Guendale, 
but whose face was the inanimate face of her sister who 
had died many a year ago. And in the mighty vault 
of the one bank that furnished sufficient financial accom- 
modation to a hundred miles of adjacent territory, that 
vault whose strength the rustics love to boast, shrewdly 
estimating it by the size of the key, in a capacious box 
whose shining lid clearly displayed the legend “James 
Chidsy,” safely lay those securities which her father with 
loving care had accumulated for her comfort. 

The house was dreary and dingy with rusty shutters, 
and walls against which the discouraged vines had long 
since decayed. No shade trees softened its nakedness. 
No flowers nor verdure relieved the barrenness of its ap- 
proach. It remained an architectural horror upon the 
sweet rural landscape without mitigation or concealment. 
Within could be found those necessaries of life that rigid 
economy makes manifest, but comfort furnished no aux- 
iliary. While there was no want, it seemed as though 
its presence had not long since departed, and as though 
its shadow still remained. These were days when 
samplers were artistic, and antimacassers denoted cul- 
ture: but no such superfluities of naughtiness distracted 


X) 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


ihe thoughts and inflated the pride within this home of 
devotion. The walls were as bare as they were when 
the plasterers finished them. Upon the hard polished 
floor each foot-fall rang the challenge of “who goes 
there } The chairs were as upright as their owner, and 
the beds were penitential in their influences. An air of 
rigidity characterized all things, as inflexible as the face 
and the spirit of the good man whose righteousness is 
determined and unchanging. 

It was here that Jonas was born and reared, an only 
child, amid these concomitants of sadness and repres- 
sion. His father must not be hardly judged. He lived, 
as he was wont to say, “according to his lights.” He 
owed no man, and painfully performed each duty. His 
nature was affectionate ; but this attribute inspired him 
with shame and its subjection produced harshness. He 
loved his wife ; but the light of his love burned very low. 
Once when he had a fever and delirium had conquered 
his self-enclosed spirit, his ravings had colored her 
cheeks and softened her eyes with tenderness. He did 
not appreciate that he had wooed her through fright and 
fascination, and that after he had won her, he had coiled 
about her the deadly folds of his bigotry, until her happy 
girlish heart had been crushed into pulp. To him it 
seemed that she was blessed above all women; and that 
her silent, patient, monotonous life was the discipline 
necessary to ensure eternal glory. Such had been his 
mother’s existence, and he well remembered the seren- 
ity of her death-bed. 

When Jonas as a child realized his own identity, he 
was sorry for himself. His earliest recollections em- 
bodied blows and tears. His first subjective thought 
regretted animation. It was so cruel, so unnecessary. 
A dreamless sleep without an awakening possessed no 
terrors for him, and oblivion seemed to be as griefless 
as was the day before his birth. 


A PTOMAA/ OF SOREK, 


21 


His father believed in the incessant activity of a per- 
sonal devil, and that idleness was the most insidious 
snare with which he entrapped his victims. So Jonas 
was never idle. He attended school, and when its 
session was over, he worked steadily, continuously, per- 
forming all of those hard coarse labors with which a 
farm can tax the strength of youth, until the evening 
prayers were said and a stern, cold “ good-night’’ dis- 
missed him to his cot in the attic. Upon Sundays, or 
the “ Sabbath’’ as his father always said, he attended 
the meetings and consumed the hours between them by 
reading the Old Testament, Baxter’s “Saints’ Rest,” and 
“ Macolm on the Atonement.” His sole knowledge of 
fiction was derived from Solomon’s Song, the Book of 
Revelation, and Bunyan’s “ Pilgrim’s Progress. ” These 
stirred strange thoughts that burned within him and viv- 
ified the gloom of his little room with weird creations. 
Yet these visions were soon buried in the dun routine 
of his life. Machinery is never inspired, for its monot- 
onous regularity kills imagination. Deep within the 
boy’s soul lay the warm emotions which his gentle 
mother had imparted unto him, concealed by the ashes 
of suppression, yet vital to his nature. 

Jonas was renowned throughout the neighborhood as 
a good boy. Unlike the parson’s son of tradition, he 
was neither an awful example nor a vicarious sacrifice 
to his mates. He was rather, the suggested object of 
their emulation, and consequently the recipient of their 
unalloyed detestation. He was always so respectful, 
so obedient, so faithful to his studies, so quiet and so 
docile, that of course his fellows hated him. And yet, 
one day after school hours, when the ordinary amuse- 
ments of pulling his hair, soiling his clothes with mud 
and mutilating his books, had been supplemented by 
the applied epithets of “girl,” “saint,” and “sissy”; he 
had turned upon the largest of his tormentors with the 


22 


A WOMAN OF SORE A'. 


ungovernable ferocity of a savage, had quickly stretched 
him upon the ground, bleeding and senseless, and then 
had leapt upon his inert body and had so pummelled 
his countenance that for days afterwards darkness and 
blueness preyed upon the damask of his cheeks. And 
when he ran to his home and hid himself within his 
room, with doors securely bolted, he so frightened his 
mother by his fierce lamentations and threats of self-de- 
struction should his conduct ever be mentioned within 
his hearing, that she dared to approach her sombre lord 
and to address him in such unaccustomed accents, that 
she overcame the complaints of terrified school-boys 
and astounded parents, and deep and awful silence ban- 
ished the expected rod. After this, Jonas became even 
more reserved and taciturn. He had changed ridicule 
into fear, and now his companions avoided him. He 
often longed for their torture ; for it was preferable to 
the solitude to which he had been doomed. It thus oc- 
curred that during the years — and they are few indeed — 
when friendship possesses virility, and is not tainted by 
insincerity and selfishness, and when sacrifice and gen- 
erosity are potentialities that may become facts, Jonas 
knew no friend. No boyish heart beat in unison with 
his sympathy, no vigorous right arm was ever ready to 
be nerved for his protection. 

' When Jonas was a little lad he sat, one Sunday after- 
noon, upon the porch in the rear of his father’s house. 
His book was open upon his knees but he was not 
reading it. He was listening to the song of the birds 
that were nesting in a tree near by. 

‘‘Why are you so contemplative, my son ? ” asked his 
father, who had quietly approached him. The boy 
started, as though guilty of a discovered sin ; yet he 
bravely replied : “I was wondering why I should not 
be as happy as the birds. The same sunlight greets me ; 
for me, too, the flowers bloom and the trees put forth 


A WOMAN OF SOREFT. 


23 

their shady leaves, and all nature seems to smile and 
caress. Why is it that they are so gladsome, while I 
am dull and burdened with dread, and must read books 
that I do not like and hear sermons that I do not under- 
stand?” 

“Because, my son, of sin and of the grave. These 
poor senseless creatures are children of the hour, while 
we are heirs of eternity. Short, indeed, is the longest 
probation vouchsafed to man to enable him to so live as 
to avoid the dire consequences of original sin.” 

“Oh how I wish that I were a bird ! ” Jonas impul- 
sively cried, and was straightway condemned by his 
horrified father to continue his reflections within the se- 
clusion of his attic chamber. 

So constantly instilled within his mind, was the 
wickedness of enjoyment and the need of incessant 
prayer and watchfulness. While he could not under- 
stand the purpose, he fully appreciated the necessity ; 
and thus he became punctilious in the performance of 
all religious obligations. But each day he grew more 
sullen and dejected. Two natures contended within 
him for mastery, the one, warm, impulsive and sensi- 
tive ; the other, cold, secretive and intuitively deceitful. 
These were the maternal and paternal forces, and they 
did not coalesce, but existed independent and identical 
within him, though circumstances and environments 
encouraged the growth of the latter. 

When Jonas had reached the age of sixteen years, his 
father died, a peaceful death, so the old and experienced 
said, speaking, as they judged, relatively. But to Jonas 
it was a most fearful and grewsome sight. To him the 
scene was an unmitigated horror, and the stertorous 
breathing rang in his ears, and the ghastly vision, that in 
one prolonged moment became a thing unearthly and 
uncanny, preyed upon his eyes and haunted his bedside 
for many sleepless nights. So this was the fate that 


24 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


awaited mankind. He felt like a captive upon a South 
Sea isle, who for the first time realizes that he is a victim 
reserved for sure immolation upon the altar. Life then 
was a cheerless tragedy, the curtain falling upon the 
fatal punishment of all the actors. Why did men write 
and exaggerate the agony of an impending doom, when 
an equal fate visited them all } The struggle might be 
protracted, but the same end was inevitable. The old 
regret of his boyhood, intensified now by a complete 
knowledge of animalism which had hitherto been 
shrouded by the imagery of sacred song, returned to 
him. How unnecessary it all was. If he had sought 
existence he could only blame himself for what seemed 
to be its results. But he had not. He found himself, 
against his will, endowed with a life which he believed 
to be interminable ; and the thought that even death 
would afford no rest, but might usher scenes far more 
terrible than imagination could picture, nearly distracted 
him. Perhaps he would have surrendered to the insane 
motives that arose within him had he conceived that 
they would be lasting. But his teachings, in which he 
believed although he dreaded so to do, taught him that 
on the threshold of another world full consciousness 
would return to him. So it would be of no avail. Not- 
withstanding his pious instructions, death formerly had 
possessed no personality to him. It had merely been 
an indefinite concomitant of senility and decay. Now 
it was a demon of supernatural power who was inces- 
santly upon his track. He shuddered beneath the cold 
touch of its fleshless finger and the menacing glitter of 
its orbless eye. 

His mother’s nature aroused within him, and imagi- 
nation and reason, like twin evil spirits, nearly rent him 
apart in their contest for supremacy. It had been his 
father’s wish that he should prepare himself for the min- 
istry. For not one instant did he dream of gainsaying 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


25 


it ; but with all the fervor of a dervish did he undertake 
the task. With a zeal that was pitiable in its directness 
and concentration did he pore over the old tomes that 
he had conned, and endeavor to think the thoughts that 
had controlled him and gain the assurance that he had 
assumed. 

Boundless as had been the subjection of his mother's 
spirit during his father s lifetime, the astounding shock 
of his demise had rendered more permanent its thraldom. 
For now her mental force exhausted itself in fancying 
him to have been all that he was not, in decking a char- 
acter devoid of kindliness with gentle graces, and in 
transforming a false but noble image into a perfect like- 
ness. So no change transpired in the tone of the house, 
it was even more colorless than ever. 

The widow draped with weeds and sorrow, and her 
tall, athletic, lugubrious son, as regularly as the Sabbath 
dawn, were seen within the family pew and then were 
invisible for the remainder of the week. They were as 
secluded as is a hermit in a rocky cave, who visits the 
busy marts when duty or necessity demands, and then 
vanishes into forgetfulness. 

This unvaried existence finally conquered his sensi- 
bilities. They became subdued and dulled. Extreme 
fear left him, because he was no longer capable of such 
an emotion. He grew contented and satisfied, and he 
attributed this change to his devotional endeavors. His 
mind was so warped by its constant exposure to the dis- 
mal mists of solitude that its normal faculties of judg- 
ment were diseased. He consumed a large proportion 
of each day in introspection ; yet he knew himself not. 
He believed that his life was pure and godly ; it was 
regular and free from temptation. He believed that 
religion had permeated and become a part of his entire 
being ; it was simply his father’s cloak which he had 
assumed with his other possessions. He believed that 


26 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


he loved God ; he feared Him. He believed that his 
nature was guileless and passionless ; it was an un- 
ploughed field. The terrors evoked by his father’s de- 
cease gradually diminished, and, in their stead, he expe- 
rienced a certain relief that he was now able to will for 
himself, not appreciating that even in the grave the 
paternal influence was most virile. 

It so happened that business connected with the 
management of his estate caused Jonas to visit the city 
of Boston. No recluse ever returned from his desert cell 
so unsophisticated as he. The glory of the sun-lit dome 
of the old State House cast its radiance upon him. The 
imagery of familiar hymns seemed to be realized. He 
walked the streets upon the tip-toe of wonder and of awe. 
Surely Heaven could not be more fair. One morning 
he passed the gray stone walls of a Roman church. 
Through the high, half-swung, ecclesiastical windows, 
a dream of celestial harmony was stealing. He faltered 
for a moment and then entered the widely arched por- 
tals, and screened himself from observation in an unoc- 
cupied pew behind the massiveness of a fluted column. 
A Requiem Mass was in process of celebration. He 
had never before heard the tones of an organ, a tuning 
fork and a pair of muscular lungs supplying its place 
within his accustomed sanctuary. Never before had he 
seen stained glass, nor the marvels that architecture can 
work from stone. The varied hues of the dim and holy 
light, the sacred symbols and effigies royal in gold and 
in purple, the chaste glimmer of the candles, like disem- 
bodied souls supplicating in unison, the oppressive and 
oriental effect of the incense, the long line of priests and 
acolytes, the clash of the mysterious chime as the wor- 
shippers prostrated themselves in adoration, and the 
music, that seemed to be evolved from the divine hom- 
age of the spheres and celestial bodies, ravished his 
senses and entranced him. Gone was all remembrance 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC. 


27 


of the homely little meeting-house, with its huge sound- 
ing board, its stiff, uncouth, benches and pews, the 
wearisome windings and repetitions of its prayers, and 
the seven long stages of its sermons. 

Jonas entered that church a Puritan. He left it a 
Puritan transformed, with imagination aroused and sense 
of the beautiful awakened. Many times after this did 
he return, with all the fervor of a lover seeking his mis- 
tress, scarcely realizing the strength of his interest, nor 
attempting to interpret the sources of his emotion. The 
maternal quality within him, for so long a time pinched 
and starved, had at length found ambrosial food, and its 
craving claimed satisfaction. Yet Jonas had no inten- 
tion of becoming a proselyte of the Romish faith. He 
inhaled its forms and ceremonies as one might the aroma 
of a delicious wine ; but he succumbed not wholly to 
its persuasions. This was not devoutness, it was dissi- 
pation, that caused him to tremble as he thought of its 
glamour, when alone in his little room at home sur- 
rounded by the grim and forbidding associations and 
mementoes of his father. 

Still it is possible that some order of friars gray might 
have included him within its silent circle, had not doc- 
trine stood like a lion in the way. For doctrine was as 
firmly set within his mind as were the bones within his 
members. He thoroughly understood the tenets of his 
belief, and was versed in all of its controversial litera- 
ture. And this stout armor was not to be pierced by 
music and lights and incense however sensuously de- 
lightful they might be. Besides his intellect revolted 
from the idea of the adoration of the Virgin. To him, 
she was no more blessed than the dust of the manger 
within which the Christ had been laid. While her sex 
was the epitome of submission and inferiority. He had 
no womanly ideal ; for he never thought of woman. 
His mother had been his sole female companion. He 


28 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


appreciated that she had ever lavished upon him love 
and tenderness. But this had seemed to him to be her 
duty, a part of her life’s obligation, as it was to each 
morning have prepared a suitable breakfast for him, and 
it had never elicited from him a responsive touch of 
gratitude. He knew that she shrank before his father, 
that she feared him, that she endeavored to divine and 
meet his very wish, that she was as humble as a serv- 
ant and as silent as a slave ; and it had ever seemed 
right and fitting to him that this should be so. His in- 
dignation had never burned because of her treatment, it 
had been condensed upon his own ill usage. Not one 
spark of chivalry lingered upon the bleak hearth-stone 
of his soul and kindled into anger through the knowl- 
edge of her blighted joys. For he had never thought 
that she might have been happier than she was. Her 
patient resignation that should have caused him to love 
her more, simply m.ade him respect her less. In the 
mirror of nature his character was reflected in repulsive 
lines. 

As for the young girls of the village, they shunned 
him with reverent awe, for he was to be his father’s suc- 
cessor. 

Romanism, however, had strongly affected him. It 
changed the course of his reading and aroused his aes- 
thetic tastes. He perused the poetry of meditation and 
was lulled by the soothing of its rhythms. He learned 
to love paintings and to commune more closely with 
nature, and to join in the praise with which her voice is 
attuned. 

When as a boy he had striven to coalesce the restless 
forces of his character with the future that had been 
drafted for him, he had said that he would be a mis- 
sionary ; and the anticipations of bloody struggle with 
savages had far exceeded in interest his hopes of spirit- 
ual achievements. Then he had acceded to his parents 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


29 

desires, and to the pious hopes of the elders of the con- 
gregation, and had planned, to eventually occupy his 
father’s pulpit. But now he rebelled against this desti- 
nation. He longed to erase all the hard, bitter lines from 
his life. He yearned for richer food, for a more luxu- 
rious retreat. 

His mother died and he was left alone without one 
tie of consanguinity or friendship. He was wealthy ; 
but he disdained his fortune, and was ignorant of its 
power. The pleasures of the world stretched forth their 
arms and sought his embrace, and he craved the quiet 
of absolute seclusion. He was free, and anxious to be 
bound. Life was bitter ; yet he thought that in mild 
meditation and in the cultivation of the soul and of his 
newly-discovered aesthetic taste, he could best endure 
it. He compromised between the influences of his 
youth and the tendencies of his manhood, and entered 
the Seminary at Armway which was under the rules 
and guidance of the Protestant Episcopal church. Here 
he enjoyed that irresponsible rest into which selfishness 
entered ruling as a supreme quality. He was filled with 
vain imaginings which inflated his pride. He indulged 
in rhapsodies whose insincerities he did not appreciate. 
And through constant submission to vague whims and 
to the dreams of idleness, he had reduced his moral nat- 
ure, whose strength had always been its freedom from 
attack, into a condition of extreme weakness, none the 
less real because he did not justly estimate it, when, as 
has been seen, he met Marcia Clenton, 


30 


A WOMAN OF SOREN 


CHAPTER III. 

It was when Jonas was about five years of age, and 
the clouds of knowledge were just commencing to drift 
across his mental horizon, that in the village of May- 
ville, which was nearly one hundred miles distant from 
his home, throughout the lingering hours of one sum- 
mer day, there was great popular excitement. Ruth 
Connyng, “ the acknowledged beauty of this vicinity, ” as 
she had been frequently termed in the local press, was 
missing from her father s house. Her parents were dis- 
traught with anxiety, and grief promised rewards for 
the slightest clue or information, which, it is possible, 
reason would have afterwards repudiated. Rumors of 
foul play prevailed, and scouting parties were organ- 
ized. Men talked in low, determined tones, with dark- 
some and threatening fire in their eyes, as men always 
do on such occasions, under the twofold stimulus of an 
unusual cessation from toil, and of that peculiar form of 
courage whose origin is attributed to the conquerors of 
Holland. But when it was discovered that Charlie Clen- 
ton, the dashing young lawyer, had also disappeared, 
the brave bands quietly dispersed and the crowds 
around the tavern bar rolled a sweet morsel pf savory 
scandal beneath their tongues. 

“The ole' Squire '11 never forgive her,” squeaked an 
octogenarian, as with trembling avidity, he bespattered 
his venerable beard with the greater portion of his 
dram. 

“ Wait’n see,” mumbled another, as he impeded ar- 
ticulation with an enormous handful of tobacco, 
^‘blood's thicker’n water, an' she’$ the apple of his eye. 


A IVOMAN OF SOREK. 


31 


Hazy rejoinder and rambling reminiscences followed in 
quick succession. The lineal and collateral branches of 
the Connyng family tree were thoroughly shaken. 
Traits of ancestors, long since changed into mould, 
were resurrected, and ‘ ‘ I tole yer so, was a frequent 
ejaculation. 

The revolving months with unceasing speed pro- 
pelled the train of the seasons, and still naught was seen 
of the “apple of his eye.'' She was in Europe spend- 
ing golden days of happiness with the man whom she 
loved, and whose strong heart throbbed in responsive 
harmony, realizing the perfect joy that only the thought- 
less confidence of a young, inexperienced, giddy girl can 
attain. But as the far-away future changed into the re- 
treating past, the prophecy of the village gossip was ful- 
filled ; the old squire did relent. The wanderers returned, 
and great were the rejoicings that attended the slaying 
of the fatted calf. None danced at this reunion with so 
careless and so light a foot as did Ruth. How happy 
she was as a daughter, as a wife, as a mother. For, 
amid the admiring guests, beamed the golden locks of a 
little child, marvellously matured and developed for her 
age, whose name was Marcia. 

That night the future seemed to be cloudless ; yet the 
mists were already gathering. The new home was pre- 
pared with the provident comfort that luxury can con- 
fer upon intelligent endeavor, and blessings seemed to 
attend the lighting of its focal fires. Yet inexorable 
death had marked its lintel with envious touch ; and 
hopes and dreams and joyous anticipations shrivelled 
like chaff in a fervent heat. Life’s pleasures are limited, 
and when they concentrate they become most fleeting. 
Maniacs beat their witless heads against padded walls ; 
criminals counted the dragging hours of hopeless im- 
prisonment ; the maimed and the sick grudged each 
painful breath ; yet still they all lived, and death heeded 


32 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EJC. 


not their cries. But. the golden cord that bound the 
blithesome spirit of the young wife to earth in willing 
captivity, was ruthlessly broken ; and the little child, 
playing in the sunshine in the unconscious gladness of 
healthful infancy, in the loss of her mother was doubly 
orphaned. For in that fatal hour, her father had ma- 
tured into grim manhood. His eyes had lost their lustre, 
his cheeks their youthful flush, and the ringing laughter 
died from his voice forever. He became a self-abstracted 
entity, a ceaseless piece of machinery. His profession 
engrossed his attention : and unremitting toil won him 
celebrity as a lawyer, and kept memory under the seve- 
rest restraint He wooed sleep with weariness, and 
vanquished grief by activity ; warding off her keen shafts 
with the shield of labor. 

So Marcia was consigned to the care of servants, who 
nurtured her as tenderly as are the flowers of the green 
house. Flowers, it is true, have no souls, and their cul- 
ture is entirely material ; yet they are always fresh, 
sweet and beautiful. Their care in this respect was 
similar, and the same results followed. They gratified 
every wish that she expressed since her contentment 
was their advantage. When she cried for the moon 
they gave it to her, or at least she thought that they did ; 
and the production of a gaudy lantern was a much pleas- 
anter way for them to surmount this difficulty, than, 
through explaining its inaccessibility, to endure her 
fretful complainings. 

Marcia was never a boisterous child. She was quiet, 
secretive and retentive. She was indulged to so great 
an extent that her determination rarely displayed its 
strength ; when it did, it was unscrupulous and unyield- 
ing. When she was thwarted, she apparently forgot it, 
but she never did. In time she always worked her re- 
venge ; and no meanness was so petty as to shame her 
from employing its instrumentality. She was never 


A WOMAN- OF SOREIC. 


33 

contrite ; for her desires were her conscience. A keen 
observer, who was not dazzled by the ethereal loveli- 
ness of her face, would have noticed that her eyes were 
almond shaped, that her mouth was curved in down- 
ward lines at its corners, and that when she smiled, she 
smiled only with her lips. 

She frequently adopted a quaint and effective tone of 
compassion towards herself, which she assumed, as 
she did her most costly garments, when guests were 
expected. Experience had taught her that sympathy 
excites interest, and that a poor little motherless girl is 
certain to be loved and petted. So such she became, 
when the occasion was propitious. The grief, that 
piteously bedewed her saddened gaze when consoling 
sweet-meats seemed to be a possibility, was heart-rend- 
ing ; yet she afterwards found them to be most assuag- 
ing. 

Marcia had always feared her father, and in his presence 
was silent and respectful, and obedient to the glance of 
his cold gray eye. She never troubled nor disturbed him, 
and therefore he considered her to be the model of ex- 
cellence. This idea became fixed in his mind with all 
the inflexibility of a legal maxim. So servants and 
governesses came and went, and he heeded the praise 
of their coming and disdained the warning of their de- 
parture. And this little child grew up within his house- 
hold, more absolute in authority and inclination fiian 
ever was princess within a royal harem. 

Her father possessed the library of a desultory, 
omnivorous reader rather than that of a scholar. The 
bent of his taste had been changeful, and he had fol- 
lowed the course that it had indicated. An abundant 
collection of books was the result of this literary ex- 
travagance ; and, though it had been chosen without 
practiced discrimination, his natural culture had in- 
stinctively sought the fairest fruit. While the bibliophile 


A WOMAN OF SORRK, 


54 

would have there met much to condemn and little to 
laud or to covet, the student of rhetoric and of polite 
literature would have revelled in its exhaustless richness. 
The room was capacious and tempting, viewing the 
garden, through its deep bay-windows, with its closely 
cropped lawn, and fountain freshening the flowers with 
the dew of its dancing waters. The gloom of its deep 
recesses and the sunshine that streamed through the 
meshes of the vine clinging without in curious festoons 
of living green, blended into an atmosphere deliciously 
soft and mellow. While the broad, low divans invited 
that dreamy perusing which intoxicates the mind and 
enervates the will. 

When Marcia was a young maiden, this became her 
favorite haunt ; and on any glowing afternoon she 
might have been seen curled up upon the cushions 
deeply intent in reading, or with book open upon her 
lap and eyes upraised in fantasy, buried in profound 
reverie. It delighted her father when he returned in 
the evening to find her thus absorbed in Hume’s “ His- 
tory of England,” Milton’s “Paradise Lost” or “Thomp- 
son’s Seasons.” He would engage her in conversation 
and question her narrowly as to her views of those 
authors who had been most sympathetic and compat- 
ible with him ; and in her frank criticisms and phenom- 
enal erudition, he discovered the vainglorious pride of 
a parent. He would boast among his lawyer-friends 
of her attainments and tendencies, and from her case 
conclusively prove, at least to his own satisfaction, that 
a fine literary taste and love of learning can be inher- 
ited. But he never thought of looking beneath the 
divan’s pillow upon which she nestled ; or he might 
have found there concealed, “The Sentimental Journey ” 
or “Tom Jones,” or “ Perigrine Pickle,” or the fascinat- 
ing works of Mrs. Aphra Behn, or even his old forgotten 
copy of the poems of Lord Rochester. But this last 


A IVOMAN OF SOFFJir, 


35 

revelation could have only transpired upon a certain 
day when he was surely absent from the village, when 
the governess was bound hand and foot by sickness, and 
when no interloper could have possibly approached. 
And even then its naughty pages had been read, if 
indeed they were read, with great fear and trembling, 
and frequent starts and furtive concealments. 

Marcia always possessed certain undefined powers of 
attraction and fascination, which, without apparent in- 
tention, she exerted upon all of her opposite sex with 
whom, she was thrown into association. They were 
born within her and were as natural and intuitive as is 
its daily revolution to the helianthus. When she was 
a tiny baby, her father’s friends delighted to hold her 
upon their knees and to kiss her, she was so con- 
tented and she cooed into their faces so engagingly. 
When she was older and played upon the lawn near 
the roadside, the passers-by would involuntarily pause 
and gaze upon her and strive to win her into conversa- 
tion. Nor was this a difficult task. While appearing 
to be shy, she was forward and observing. Boundless 
love of admiration governed her, and since her wishes 
had never been curbed, success invested her with a be- 
witching audacity. Her keen perceptions and restless 
eye grasped every characteristic and peculiarity and 
minutiae of dress, appearance and cafriage, that be- 
tokened thought or occupation ; and her pat questions 
and suggestions aroused curiosity and amazement. 

And the boys of the village ? They were her slaves. 
As the years rolled by, each one touching her with 
beauty’s magic, her home became a Mecca to which a 
daily pilgrimage was a pious obligation. She ruled 
them with the sceptre of her sex, now causing them to 
blush with shame over their rough cotton clothing and 
coarse boots ; now inciting jealousies between them 
from which many a bloody poll emerged ; now scorn- 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


36 

fill, and now lavish with her caresses ; she thus be* 
wildered and bound them by the intricacies of hei 
coquetry. Sometimes she would romp, withal she 
was so demure, but that would be when she was with 
one alone, nor would its remembrance be lasting with 
her. The next day the placid eyes would be rriore 
shyly cast down than ever before, and meek seriousness 
would chide rude endeavor. 

But she wearied of them all, and despised the poor 
conquests of her meagre vicinage. She longed for a 
knight with nodding plume ; for a cavalier, with flash- 
ing glance and twisted mustachios, with dangling 
rapier, and burnished gorget and golden chain. She 
was an accomplished and enthusiastic equestrienne, and 
fond of long solitary rides through the wild and roman- 
tic scenes of the neighborhood ; and, often when dash- 
ing along the narrow path that penetrated a woody 
glade, she would imagine that he was seeking for her 
and was following her, and she could almost hear the 
pantings of his courser as he plunged in fiery pursuit, 
and feel the hot breath of her gallant fanning her cheek 
as he bent low in obeisance at her side. She dreamed 
of courts and of revelry, of the sparkle of gems and of 
dark eyes, of the gleam of white hands and the sheen 
of rare laces, of soft whisperings behind arras of gorgeous 
tapestry, of mj^terious foot-falls at night, and of sweet 
alarmings and distress. The circumscription of her life 
jaded her. Welcome the state of the minuet, or the 
dash of the farandole ; either would be preferable to the 
torpid stroll in the rustic lane ! 

Whenever Marcia attended the social gatherings that 
thawed the stupor with which the bitter winter enthralled 
the village, she was surrounded by abevy of young girls 
who encircled her with their admiration, and with the flat- 
tery of their imitation. She did not interfere with any 
of their love-makings nor demean herself into rivalry 


A WOMAN OF SOREN 


%1 

with them. So their praise exceeded speech. But the 
young matrons did not zealously join in these anthems 
to her angelic simplicity, for they saw their recreant s wains^ 
despite nods and winks and warnings, press eagerly for- 
ward in their anxiety to render homage at her shrine. 
Yet they did not dare to accuse her of encouragement, for 
as often happens in treasonable affairs, they lacked the 
knowledge of an overt act. 

There was at least one trait of Marcia’s, which was in- 
compatible with her seraphic nature, and that was the abil- 
ity and desire to eat a variety of indigestible substances. 
In early youth this manifested itself in a craving for 
chalk and slate pencils, which, as maturity approached, 
extended so as to include pickles and hard-boiled eggs 
and all forms of chocolate confection. The habit was 
secretive and self-restricted. To her father she seemed to 
be as fastidious as the humming birds that subsist upon 
the air and the sunshine. With alarm he watched her 
refuse the most tempting viands that his table proffered. 
He thought that she appeared wan and debilitated ; 
and in his agitation he consulted not only the old family 
physician, but also a famous specialist from Boston, who 
looked grave and wise, and hemmed and pursed his lips, 
and feared a predisposition towards several maladies, 
and who left behind him, besides a brief recapitulation ot 
the value of his services, sufficient iron and bismuth and 
phosphorus to minerally enrich the soil of the garden 
into which they were thrown. But Marcia was not suf- 
fering from anaemia. The larder often endured nocturnal 
attacks which were the subject of endless speculation to 
the cook, and of unjust suspicion towards the maid. 
While snuggling in the cosiest nook of her capacious 
easy-chair, within the closed portals of her room sur- 
rounded by enticing fragments of edibles, and by her 
choicest books, in a negligee costume which she had de- 
signed solely for comfort, but which was charming with- 


A WOMAA^ 01^ SOliSK'. 


38 

out any design, Marcia nourished both body and mind 
upon peculiar food after her own peculiar fashion. She 
loved the unusual, the extraordinary, the bizarre, and 
her participation in it was most felicitous if it only 
remained secret 

There was an old maiden aunt who had anchored 
her dilapidated, storm-driven bark within the haven 
of this home, whose affection for Marcia was as short- 
sighted as were her eyes, and they required the strongest 
lens to successfully thread a needle. She believed that 
her niece was most devoted to her, and was constantly 
striving in some way to benefit and to relieve her. 
Every stroke of work that she did about the house, and 
she was both grateful and willing, she believed was done 
despite Marcia’s protestations, and against her wishes. 
It almost made her feel guilty as she thought of the 
grieved surprise which would shine from those tender 
blue eyes when her disobedience was made evident. 
Yet she continued to be busy from morning until night, 
and the gentle reproaches which were so soothing to 
her, did not lighten her labors. And Marcia had more 
opportunities than ever before to ride and to read and 
to dream. While her aunt, oppressed by a vague sense 
of her own ingratitude, cudgelled her poor old brain, 
and bent her weary back in striving to repay by slight 
attentions the kindnesses which her angel niece showered 
upon her. 

One winter, Marcia did so tire of her governess that 
she attended the village school. There, of course, she 
stood at the head of her class, while ever second to her 
was Tom Graham, who had hitherto been considered in- 
vincible and whose learning had been quite the boast of 
the district It was whispered, at one time among a few 
disgruntled pupils, that he had been heard prompting 
her; and that their exercises in Algebra and History 
were often almost identical. But Marcia had too many 


A WOMAN OF SOFEF. 


39 


friends for these rumors to prevail. She was so sweet 
and so good, if she and Tom agreed in their work it was 
because they were both so clever, and they both were 
right. Accordingly the foul reports were forgotten, save 
to be quoted as instances of how no one is beyond the 
reach of slander ; and Marcia became a village Hypatia in 
learning, as she had ever been in beauty and in excellence. 
Thus virtue was its own reward, and education was 
proven to greatly prosper under the stimulus of kisses. 

When Marcia had reached that age which is considered 
to be intrinsically sweet by all, except those who have 
passed it, it occurred to her father, who had been con- 
sulting again with the family physician, and who was 
still alarmed over her fragility, that a course at a famous 
boarding school of which he had some knowledge, 
might strengthen her constitution and offer a broader 
and more commensurate field to her budding intel- 
lectuality. So one bright autumn morning she was driven 
away amid the shouts and the sobs of her companions, 
who had all crowded to bid her God speed, save one 
who, alone in the woody nook where they had met morn- 
ing after morning, and she had become so quickly pro- 
ficient and he had been so sweetly recompensed, wept 
and tore his sandy hair, and wondered whether she was 
thinking of him and whether she too was weeping, and 
comforted himself with this belief, because she was so 
good and had so often told him how fond she was of him, 
and had proved it too, he thought, as the hot blood 
flushed his cheek. So he cheered himself from day to 
day ; and dreamt of Paul and Virginia, and of Ulysses 
and Penelope ; and built famous castles, which belonged 
to him and were guarded by his retainers, and in each 
one of which sat Marcia with her eyes beaming con- 
fidence and her smile speaking trust, surrounded by 
her maids and busied with the tapestry web, patiently 
awaiting his return. 


40 


A WOMAN OF SOREM. 


While Marcia was borne away towards her destination, 
her mind, clear and free from remembrance and regret 
of home and friends, as fresh and ready for new impres- 
sions as is a renewed photographic plate. 

“I am so comfortable,” she had softly replied to the 
inquiries of her fellow-passenger, a sympathetic old 
gentleman, who had noticed with emotion the grief that 
had attended her departure, and who maundered on in 
a rambling stream of platitudes regarding the respon- 
sibility of parents, and how no one could feel the feel- 
ings of a father, unless he was a father,, in such a delight- 
fully interesting manner, that he finally fell asleep over it, 
and proved himself to be a bachelor impostor by the ag- 
gressive way in which he snored. And comfortable, as- 
suredly, she felt. She knew that she was beautiful, and - 
dressed richly and in taste. She occupied the softest 
corner of the coach, where the blazing sunlight could not 
burn her, and where she coiled herself snugly and 
engagingly. Within her satchel was a package of her 
favorite chocolate beans. And she had such a novel, 
such a desperate, maddening, enthralling novel, which, 
with an eye single to propriety, she had carefully rebound 
with the cover of “Coelebs” by the spotless and trust- 
worthy Miss More, whose writings had been especially 
recommended by her father. Besides, she had more 
money in her purse than she had ever before possessed, 
and how potently that fact tranquillizes the spirit, as 
the reading of the will assuages the grief of the heir. 
Comfortable, of course, she was and always would be. 
Let others be absurdly sad and jealous, and nervous and 
despondent, she was so good and so sweet that naught 
could disturb the pleasures of her existence. Grimalkin 
dozes in selfish enjoyment upon the hearth, though 
death and disaster visit the house, and she is sleek and 
long-lived. ♦ 

Marcia was not absorbed within the multitude of 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


41 


girls with whom she was now associated. Her flexible 
disposition and her love of admiration, which was rest- 
less and exigent, soon gave to her pre-eminence. To- 
wards her teachers she was respectful and flatteringly def- 
erential, winning their approbation by her industry, and 
their affection by her gentle manner and timid yet 
tender caresses. Upon the scholars she lavished the 
wealth of her versatility. She sympathized with the 
home-sick. She wept with the motherless and sadly 
recounted her own irreparable loss. She prayed with 
the godly, and her pious thoughts were clothed in a 
vocabulary that was rich and sumptuous. She mastered 
dates, and searched lexicons, and verified problems with 
the studious. But, alas ! with the wild, the gay, and 
the giddy, she might also have been found. When 
sheets were hung across transoms, and stolen lights burn- 
ed furtively and low, and cigarettes were smoked, and 
cards were played, and. Oh, fie ! such naughty, naughty 
stories were whispered, Marcia was not sleeping within 
her chaste little cot, in the long silent dormitory. 

But this harmony of incongruities was not enduring. 
Perhaps in the course of the long year which embraced 
within its bosom many dreary disheartening days, sor- 
row and sympathy, and piety and labor, palled in their 
attractiveness, as the novel effects of each wore away. 
Perhaps folly became indiscreet. Certain it is that for a 
day or two after her return from school,, at the com- 
mencement of the long vacation, Marcia was most faith- 
ful in her attendance at the village post-office. And her 
scrutiny was soon rewarded by the receipt of a letter di- 
rected to her father in the familiar and beloved chirogra- 
phy of her revered preceptress. “ Dear teacher,” she 
murmured, How thoughtful, how kind,” as she read 
the epistle which was couched in the terse, forceful lan- 
guage which had ever dignified the dame in her commu- 
nications, whether verbal or written, It contained the 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


♦ 2 

opinion, which was mandatory in terms, that it was for 
the good of the school, as well as for her own benefit, 
that Marcia should not return. Never since her baby- 
hood, not even in the most pathetic passages of her 
harrowing description of her mother’s death, had so holy, 
so serene an expression transfigured Marcia’s face into 
glory, as having perused each pregnant word, with a 
dainty little precision and carefulness which so well be- 
came her, she tore the missive into infinitesimal pieces, 
and the wind scornfully scattered the base accusation. 

And when the summer heat was waning, and the holi- 
days had nearly sped away, tears would spring to her 
eyes and her little hand would clinch with energy, when 
school was again suggested. She could not leave her 
father, who was so lonely, her aunt, whose declining 
years demanded her tenderest care. Besides, she was 
now a young lady, and quite able to round out and 
finish her education herself. So she did not return ; for 
they both had secretly longed to so persuade her, and 
found her unselfish devotion to be the sweetest unguent 
to their cares. Yet this did not prevent her from accept- 
ing with zest the solicitous invitation of her father’s 
sister who lived at Armway. She tearfully left them to 
make a short visit with her, for she felt that it was her 
duty to do so. And it was during this sojourn, as has 
been related, that she won the fervent sympathy of 
Jonas Chidsy. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


43 


CHAPTER 

The room, into which Marcia had entered with such 
a sudden cessation of pain, was called by her aunt, 
Mrs. Clenton, the back parlor. Her “help,” whose name 
was Eliza Simpkins, and who was a maiden lady of un- 
certain age, but of certain views, insisted upon terming 
it “the setten room.” While to the boys, who were 
unfortunate enough to seek within the starved shades 
of this house that indefinite quantity and variety of food 
which is equally blessed for all as ‘ ‘ our daily bread, ” 
it was known as the “Bridge of sighs” ; since it was 
necessary for them to cross it in order to undergo the 
tortures which the white folding doors with brass knobs 
concealed within the dining hall. It was oblong and 
iow-studded; and, through its happy proximity to the 
kitchen, became the distributing reservoir for ravenous 
flies and for those culinary odors of the oleaginous sort 
that settle so thickly and lastingly. Ornamentation had 
exhausted her resources and had strained her artistic 
nerve in the decorations which graced it, and educated 
the sense of beautiful of all who came within its influence. 
Upon the high wooden mantel, whose fireplace was 
screened by a striking representation of the return 
of the Prodigal Son, who was there seen hasten- 
ing towards a rich roast of veal which his decrepit but 
joyous father was zealously turning upon a spit, and 
which had often inspired regret within the minds of the 
boys that they were not able to leave their husks and 
do likewise, were lofty china vases, procured from a 
pedler in exchange for some clothing of the late lament- 
ed husband of Mrs. Clenton after he bad “gone before” 


44 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


and presumably had no further use for it ; into which 
were twisted brightly-colored papers curiously cut The 
fly-specks, which weighted them down served to charm- 
ingly diversify the gradation of hues, through the irreg- 
ularity with which they had been bestowed. Upon the 
centre table, whose rare specimen of native marble was 
warmed by a moss-mat of fluffy green worsted, the 
naturalness of which fairly transported one to the banks 
where the wild thyme grows, conscious pride had dis- 
played “Friendship’s offering” in red and gilt, a family 
album which luckily possessed a strong clasp that open- 
ed with difficulty, and “ Men of our day,” sold only by 
subscription. The floor was scantily covered with home- 
spun carpet, certain shades of which recalled to the be- 
reaved widow, the earliest days of her wedded life, when 
that old suit, which even the wandering huckster would 
not buy, was new. But the domestic manufacturer 
had wearied before completing the required expanse, 
and so there was left exposed a broad belt of the floor- 
ing along the sides, which a lavish expenditure of yellow 
paint had enriched. While precisely arranged upon 
this, stiffly set against the walls, as if waiting for the 
funeral services to commence, were a half-dozen of 
chairs, a study in deal and horse-hair, whose rigidity 
foretold boundless fatigue, unless corpulence should 
haply demolish them. Beneath the soot-begrimed ceil- 
ing, upon the chintz-like papering, were suspended an ar- 
tistic wreath of burrs and oak-leaves ; the Battle of Bunker 
Hill done in cork in alto relievo and framed with varnished 
cones ; and the names of the tribes of Israel arranged in 
the chronological order of the births of their progenitors 
upon a sampler by Matilda McC., at the phenomenally 
early age of six years,, and supposed to have in part oc- 
casioned her untimely demise as was set forth in elegiac 
verse, inscribed and somberly framed and hung beneath. 
There was also a striking tribute to mortality, highly 


A WOMAN OF SORE A\ 


45 

poetical in its directness, exemplified in the key of hei 
coffin, which, decked with the withered flowers that her 
dead hand had enclosed, was preserved within a glass 
globe upon a weak-kneed pedestal near by. The sac- 
rifice of Isaac by Abraham, immortalized in oils, illum- 
ined with oriental splendor the further wall. It was 
purely imaginative in conception and execution ; as 
was proven by the incongruously vivid tints of the rai- 
ment with which these sacred characters were clad, and 
the physical impossibilities of the destined beast which 
was so clearly hidden within the adjacent raspberry 
bushes. And there was the piano, a crowning glory ! 
It had been preceded by a melodeon, that plaintive 
instrument, whose panting yearnings yield serious 
respectability to its possessors. But as an additional 
inducement to the participation in the chaste joys of 
a truly Christian home, it had passed into the trader's 
hands ; and its melancholy tones, which had always 
reminded Eliza Simpkins of Heaven and of her 
sainted brother who had died before she was born 
and whose memory was consequently most near and 
dear to her, were dispelled by the squeaky staccato of 
the treble and the blunt discord of the bass of a musical 
treasure, that penury alone had caused a highly cult- 
ured family, who had met with undeserved reverses, to 
place upon the market 

Around this relic of departed luxury were clustered, 
when Marcia entered, a half dozen of lads of that indef- 
inite age which forestalls manhood ; when the voice has 
just deepened into steadiness, and the beard is a hopeful 
contingency ; when the limbs have hardly grown to be 
accustomed to their rapid lengthening, and exhibit their 
consciousness through ever present awkwardness. 

Bulwer’s priggish hero, Ernest Maltravers, at the 
ripe age of eighteen, was a model of courtly grace, 
from whose ready tongue the pearls of philosophy 


46 


A IVOMAAT OF SOREJC. 


dropped in profusion. But his counterpart did not ob- 
tain among them. They were shy, bashful, confused. As 
she approached them they stirred uneasily, an incoherent 
murmur arose whose subject was the condition of the 
weather, and hot blushes and twitching fingers betrayed 
nervousness. Each one thought of himself with vain 
aspirations towards gallantry which the present ruth- 
lessly disappointed. Each one, except George Dome, 
who was lolling upon the settle in front of the piano, 
whose equanimity was in no respect disturbed. He 
acknowledged her presence by a careless nod of recog- 
nition, not rising, nor removing his cap which clung to 
the tightly curling locks of his shapely head, and with 
natural confidence continued his song, adding to the 
usual number of verses, several of his own composition 
which, while shaky in metre, were pointed and apt in 
their blunt references to local affairs. 

“ Marcia,” said he, as he concluded his ditty with a 
crash of rude melody, for he played as instinctively and 
mellifluously as sing the negroes upon a southern plan- 
tation, “You missed it, such fun I never seel You 
know that between Prex Wheelers house and the second 
story of the academy there swings a wire line across 
the campus and full forty feet high. Why or wherefore 
it was originally put there, I don't know ; but probably 
some idiot of a Professor once upon a time thought that 
he would practice telegraphy with the cook. At any 
rate, there it has been ever since my sentence of exile 
here began ; and I have often wondered how it might 
be utilized, for such a lack of purpose seemed sinful. 
Well, you know that down at the “Fern. Sem.”, for 
that’s what we call Miss Rigg’s school for girls, they 
have a female skeleton in the gymnasium to teach the 
scholars how peculiarly and fearfully they are made, 
and how they look when quite undressed I suppose. 
We touched her up with phosnhorus one night, and 


A PVOA/AJV OF SORE A'. 


47 


nearly scared the linch-pins out of the janitress when 
she entered without a light. Well, up in the Academy 
weVe got a male ’un. It represents what is left of a 
theologue who accidentally happened in upon a class 
rush. Well, they both have ring screws in the tops of 
their little heads by which they can be suspended. And 
I hope to smother if this morning when the old dame 
was leading out her flock to walk, so that their young 
ideas might shoot more rapidly, if there, half-way over 
the campus, swinging hand in hand in the pure 
empyrean, like two disembodied spirits reunited in 
death, were not these two skeletons, ‘ two souls with 
but a single taut, ’ I presume, and that a wire one. Oh, 
I beat me sides with laughter.” And “Buck ” as 
George was familiarly called, rocked in his mirth from 
side to side and finally rolled upon the floor. 

“How deliciously romantic,” laughed Marcia join- 
ing with him heartily. “It quite reminds me of that 
tender passage which has always been a favorite with 
me.” And with pretty precision she repeated : 

And on her lover’s arm she leant 
And round her waist she felt it fold, 

And so across the hills they went 
In that new world which is the old.* 

Oh dear, I fear, George, that I am as ridiculous to day as 
you ”, she sighed, as she daintily dried her eyes which 
were bedewed with merriment. 

The other boys had joined George in his glee, but 
not boisterously. They were amazed at his audacity in 
relating such a story in so loose and indifferent a man- 
ner ; and they had awaited with bated breath the re- 
proof of the stinging glance and the indignant departure 
which would surely greet his ill-timed daring. But 
when the stately Miss Clenton, whose presence in the 
dining hall for the past fortnight had chilled into con- 
ventionality their ordinary habit and speech, had not 


A WOMAN OF SOREIC. 


48 

only seemed to be delighted with the recital, but had 
actually supplemented it with an ironically pat quota- 
tion, they were dumfounded. With significant expres- 
sions of wonder they silently left the room, and were 
soon busily engaged in nourishing their muddled brains, 
with oatmeal, “ Carefully selected oatmeal ” they called 
it ; for their solicitous hostess was known to painfully 
examine and work it over before it was finally prepared, 
in order that she might remove any animal life from 
Vhat in her regimen was designed to be a purely veget- 
able diet. 

George threw himself lazily upon the frail frame that 
encompassed the glory of the best sofa, and its var- 
nished joints creaked loudly in protestation against such 
abuse of its weakness. He reclined his head upon his 
arm, and, in the dronish content with which rest draped 
his members relaxed by a long afternoon of exercise 
with bat and ball, seemed to be oblivious of his fair 
companion. She came to his side and looked down 
upon him, with deep interest riveting her gaze. 

“Promise me, George,” she said, “that you will be 
more careful in the future. You will certainly be caught 
in some one of these wicked scrapes, for I know that 
you are involved in all of them. And surely you do 
not wish to be sent away while I am here.” 

“Don’t you bother your head about me,” replied Buck. 
She watched him closely as he cuddled more comfort- 
ably upon his great brawny arm. Beneath his heavy 
eyebrows, which marked his face with determination, 
his yellowish brown eyes smouldered in sullen sleepiness 
that evinced no concern in her loveliness. The rich and 
copious blood pulsated beneath his deeply tanned cheek, 
and almost started from his full crimson lips which, half 
parted, disclosed glimpses of his powerful and perfect 
teeth. His flannel shirt was loosely bound by his 
flowing neckerchief, and unfolded the contrast of his 


A IVOMAN OF SOREK, 


49 


bronzed throat with the boyish whiteness of his chest. His 
upper lip had been touched by the pencil of early man- 
hood. Upon his hands, battered by sport, the light hair 
shone like a glove of gossamer. Upon one, there was 
a deep cutover which the bloodhad scarcely coagulated ; 
and upon the other, was a greenish bruise. While his 
fingers were twisted and thickened as though old age 
had been pulling at their joints. His shoulders exhibited 
the breadth of a young giant ; and beneath the closely 
fitting, clinging texture of his rough-and-ready suit, the 
hard muscles stood forth at every movement His locks 
had been moist with the exercise of the day, and were 
matted upon his forehead. His feet were shod in can- 
vass shoes with sharp spikes in the soles. Everything 
about him denoted strength and vigor and virility, and 
he breathed out an essence of masculinity. From the 
first, he had strangely interested her and excited her 
curiosity. His abruptness piqued her. The forces of his 
nature overwhelmed her. The very day she had arrived 
in Arm way, he had addressed her by her Christian name 
with the easy familiarity of an old family friend. And 
she had not resented it, for she appreciated that her an- 
ger would be of no avail. It would not trouble him and 
would unnecessarily discommode her. Besides, she liked 
it. The novelty was piquant and persuasive. She, who 
had been a queen absolute within her realm, limited 
though it had been, now enjoyed the submissiveness of 
a hand-maiden. She soon surpassed him in friendliness, 
interesting herself in sports although they seemed to be 
inane in their senseless waste of time and energy, and 
in the boyish talk and gossip with its peculiar vocabu- 
lary and restricted view, which at first she had con- 
temptuously disregarded as the merest drivel. 

‘ ‘ What would you do, George, ” she continued, ‘ ‘ If, 
some night when you are prowling about upon one of 


$o 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


these ridiculous pranks, instead of being soundly asleep 
in your room, you should meet the watchman ?” 

She spoke in a tone tinged with awe, as if approach- 
ing a subject weighty with obligation. For this person- 
age, by the way, was the idol of the village. He denoted 
the step towards municipality, in which it had surpassed 
all of its sisters who united in forming the crown that 
decked the surrounding country. He was a portly man, 
of liberal habit, who added dignity and lustre to Arm- 
way, at least m the eyes of its denizens, far exceeding 
that which was shed by the Theological Seminary or the 
Academy, both of which paid tribute for his mainte- 
nance. He was more picturesque than useful ; and rep- 
resented the authority, rather than the power of the 
law. For corpulency impeded activity, and he found 
the angle of the Seminary fence to be most alluring. 
There he leaned idly swinging his cane to and fro dur- 
ing the long hours of his duty. A tower of strength, 
and an ambush, and a terror to evil-doers, he appeared 
to be to the pale young theologue who hurriedly passed 
him as he hastened to say grace and carve for his board ; 
but the boys had their doubts, doubts that he had wisely 
never given them an opportunity to test. He knew 
them all and called them easily by name, as they sped 
schoolward in close competition with the clanging bell ; 
but after hours, he lost sight and hearing and remem- 
brance, and his attention was never distracted from the 
glowing coals within his pipe. 

“ I’d hit him a swipe that I guess he wouldn't soon 
forget,” said George scowling fiercely and for the mo- 
ment becoming slightly animated. “But there’s no 
danger of his ever tackling me,” he continued, moodily, 
and with fine contempt. 

“ I had such an adventure this afternoon, I must tell 
you all about it fori know it will amuse you,” resumed 
Marcia, anxiously striving to excite his attention. And 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


51 

she related her meeting with Jonas, and the pious en- 
gagements that she had made with him. The girl 
seemed transformed by puissant magic. Her habit of 
self-control and secrecy, that had continually enveloped 
hei with derm-like adhesiveness had fallen away. A 
burning desire to change his apathy into ardor seized 
upon her and rendered her indiscreet. She loved her- 
self, and surely this wild lad must be allured by her 
peculiar temperament and furtive audacity. 

“ It was such fun,” she continued. “At first he was 
as frigid as an iceberg, but when I inclined quite heavily 
upon his arm, and looked into his face with plaintive 
beseeching, and revealed my childish trustfulness to him, 
he glowed like an ember fanned by the wind. I am an 
enigma to him and he will seek to solve me. I am a 
soulful ideal that shames yet curiously stirs him. I hold 
him in my grasp like a bit of earth, that crumbles into 
dust at a finger’s pinch. I shall amuse myself with him 
while I am in Armway. It’s so poky and dull, and 
Naomi wearies me so with her platitudes about duty 
and life’s purpose, and you are so infatuated with your 
senseless games. Besid-es, I can retaliate a little upon 
her ‘Saintship,’ and where is the woman who fails to 
pay a grudge ! — Do you know him, George ? ” 

^ ‘ Know him .? well I should rather say that I did ! 
You see, we boys divide all theologues, unlike Gaul, 
into two parts. Those toward whom we preserve an 
armed neutrality, and those upon whom we wage a 
war of extermination. He belongs to this latter class, 
and we’ve always had it in for him and baited him, 
when we’ve had the chance, like a rat in a pit. It is 
only because he’s such a solitary bird and keeps so 
much out of the way, that we’ve not settled his career 
in short order. You see we think that he would spy 
upon us if he could. Some of them mind their own 
business and are good fellows. But he doesn’t and he 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


52 

isn’t. He’s a friend of Tutor Stanson and that’s suffi- 
cient But what’s all this stuff about a grudge } ” 

I do not really mean anything by it, but Naomi is 
so provokingly righteous and so flaunts her guileless- 
ness in one’s face. And she has boasted so much about 
him, how good he is, and what celestial attainments he 
possesses, that I should like to show her that he is at- 
tracted by me with all my worldliness, and that the 
only perfection upon this earth is the perfection of beauty 
and grace. Besides, I hate prudes ! See, George, how 
unreservedly I talk with you, I, who have never had a 
confidant, but you influence me against my judgment, 
and I forget that you are only a droll little boy and that 
I am so much older than you.” 

She leaned upon the back of the sofa, and while she 
talked, her little hand like a bending lily, hovered over 
his head, her fingers softly caressing the shining locks 
which curled as tightly as did those that in the pagan age 
of gold wreathed the brows of Hercules and Bacchus. 

“Now look a here, Marcia Clenton,” said the boy, 
suddenly starting to his feet and shaking off sloth in his 
eagerness, “I like you, you are so jolly and so dif- 
ferent from what I at first thought you were. But no 
didoes with Naomi. We boys may ridicule and scoff 
at ’most everything, but we are all her trusty champions. 
She has been a sister to us, yes, the best kind of an 
elder sister, who is almost a mother, and if she likes 
this cranky theologue, which I never knew before, why, 
your hands must come off, and so must ours for that 
matter. He becomes tabooed like the feller in “Typee.” 
But what’s the matter with you girls anyway, don’t you 
ever like each other ? ” 

The boy’s loyal and generous words reacted upon her 
impulsiveness with the shock of an icy draught. She 
felt that she had exceeded the bounds of prudence, and 
that she had not discriminated between recklessness and 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


53 

depravity. She had disclosed a glimpse of her true 
self, and its unveiled nudity had been unsightly. A re- 
treat was necessary, her batteries must again be mask- 
ed. Tears invaded her voice, and rolled in gems of 
sorrow down her cheeks as she piteously said : 

I fear that I was born under a malignant star ! My 
purest motives are always misconstrued. My heart 
is filled with love for Naomi ; and yet you attribute such 
wicked, wicked thoughts to me. Ah ! true affection must 
be sinful, its penalties are so bitter. He has annoyed 
her with persistent attentions, but so craftily a& not to 
have excited comment. She detests and fears him, yet 
she is so simple and so innocent that she cannot rid 
herself of him. I thought that I would entice him away, 
and that after she was surely relieved, we three could 
then have a good joke over it But now I suppose you 
will betray my plans, you are so cruel and unjust.” 

There is no use of beefing about it,” replied George, 
relapsing into ease and burying in reassurance his former 
apprehensions, ‘‘ If that’s the case, you may trust me 
to be mum. Go ahead with the picnic, and I will take 
a stick to the animal and poke him up a bit myself.” 

He yawned portentously, and his heavily drooping 
eyelids almost hid his significant glance towards the 
door. Yet she interpreted its impatience and it nearly 
distracted her. Could nothing affect the stolid calm of 
this boy ! 

Oh I nearly forgot to show you,” she said, as she 
coyly lifted her tiny foot to the level of the sofa upon 
which he was reclining. “ See how badly I wrenched 
the sole this afternoon between those flags. Do you 
think that it could be repaired ? ” 

The lilac clocks gleamed as he grasped her carelessly 
and with utter contempt and disregard for those senti- 
ments of propriety that had so governed Jonas. 

Why, George, you hurt me, you are so rough. ’’she 


54 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


exclaimed. He laughed a short hard laugh and finally 
said, as he turned away and pressed his face against the 
prickly hair cloth ; ‘ ‘ Don’t bother me, Marcia ; don’t 
you see that I am sleepy.” She quietly left him, for 
she heard Mrs. Clenton’s strident voice calling to her. 
“Yes, dear Auntie, lam coming, ’’she sweetly answered, 
and as demurely as a maiden hastening to the shrine at 
vesper hour, she glided from the room. 

And George slept, yet within his mind a thought was 
germinating, whose growth would be as luxuriant as the 
forced cultivation of the hot-house can ensure. 


A IVOMAAT OF SOREK. 


55 


CHAPTER V. 

At this period of his life, George Dome had attained 
the height of human felicity. He possessed many true 
and loyal friends, so many that he could scarcely num- 
ber them upon his fingers and toes, while most men 
could safely dispense with nine-tenths of these extremi- 
ties and yet have an ample sufficiency for such an enu- 
meration. His comrades idealized him, which perhaps 
accounts for their sincerity, since accurate knowledge of 
human nature deadens the affections. He was their 
hero and champion, and, perhaps again, the reflection 
of his glory upon them unconsciously increased their 
regard; for vanity is the balance-wheel of life. His 
faults they ignored, and since their consequences were 
always personal to him alone, they escaped their atten- 
tion. His preeminent qualities of manliness and sturdy 
good fellowship, since they were in themselves pleas- 
urable, they exalted. 

A large classical school breeds a subtle, penetrating 
influence that even the dullard cannot withstand. It is 
bathed in the glowing atmosphere of the unreal past ; 
it shines with the light which is reflected from bur- 
nished shields and glancing spears, and altars rich with 
hecatombs. ■ Fleeting shadows, and rigid effigies, that 
have hardened beneath the storms of ages, are reani- 
mated and endowed with expression. The gods again 
dwell upon Mount Ida and mingle in the affairs of men ; 
and the plains of the Scamander again resound with the 
crash of brass, the blare of the trumpet, and the pound- 
ing rush of the hoof and the chariot wheel. To even the 
most indifferent of the students, Zeus, and the ox-eyed 
Hera, and the crafty Ulysses, and Agamemnon, king of 


A WOMAN OF SOKBK. 


56 

men, and the pious ^neas, and Achilles sulkingf in his 
tent, are not merely representatives of significant char- 
acters, but entities who tone their lives, brighten their 
speech, and people their imagination. The dreamy old 
world of heroes and demi-gods, of feats of personal 
strength and muscular victories, of deities associating 
with men and of men becoming deities, lies wholly 
within their horizon ; while beyond the encircling blue 
extends, like an unknown country, the conditions and 
limitations of their own time. 

The Academy at Arm way was sturdy in its allegiance 
to Greece and to Rome. Its modern boundary for 
learning was the golden age of Augustus. Its ancient 
confine, the mist-enveloped days that conceived Homer. 
Duration lent enchantment to its curriculum, and dust 
denoted fertility. Its founder had led the van of those 
who had levelled the primeval forest, and had impreg- 
nated the fallow soil. Yet unceasing labor had not re- 
stricted his vision to his own granaries. His knowl- 
edge of antiquity was embraced within the map of Pal- 
estine that embellished his well-thumbed Bible. So, 
when he sought to rear a monument more lasting than 
bronze, he piously enjoined the cultivation of the learn- 
ing of the ancients. His ample endowment, so curi- 
ously diverted from Jehovah to Jupiter, had enabled the 
Academy to resist the assault of years, and the flux of 
time, and to preserve its classical course, regardless 
alike of good and evil report, as unchanging and un- 
changeable as were the laws of the Medes and the 
Persians. 

So it was natural that among its students the strongest 
and the pluckiest should be the most famous, natural 
that the physical hero should be deemed most worthy of 
homage. But inclination does not breed perfection in 
this crotchety world ; if it did, all mankind, like Enoch, 
would speedily be translated. The school which the 


A WOMAN OF SOREA\ 


57 

pious old Puritan in his simplicity had designed to be 
a postern-gate to the straight and narrow path, became 
a broad archway leading to the Elysian fields. Its culture 
was materialistic in its tendencies, and exhibited man as 
a splendid animal, ignoring the brutality which all ani- 
mals inherit as a birthright. A set curriculum is a firm 
mould into which every form is pressed without regard 
to its natural outline. The mould may be a good one, 
but some forms will be hopelessly ruined by a vain at- 
tempt at adaptation. Weak, puny boys, dwarfed and 
enervated by coddling mothers, became at Armway 
manful and self-reliant ; but George Dome required the 
nerved hand and the forceful curb that disciplines the 
blooded colt into absolute obedience. No such restraint 
however bound him. The class-room, of course, exer- 
cised its regulations upon him ; but the influence of its 
studies excited him with riotous exultations, and moved 
his comrades to incite him with applause. His physi- 
cal luxuriance and intrepidity of spirit placed him upon 
the pedestal of a demi-god, and the incense of adula- 
tion intoxicated him. When he “rushed” the foot-ball 
across the campus, marking his course with the prone 
bodies of his foes, he seemed to his companions to be 
as glorious as was Achilles when he dragged dead Hec- 
tor at his chariot heel around the walls of Troy. When 
he accepted the boastful challenge of the Chief of the 
Independent Fire Company of the village, and so pum- 
melled him that he speedily cried “ enough,” they re- 
called in triumphant comparison how the youthful Her- 
cules had strangled the Hydra within his fist. What 
though he stumbled through his translations, tripping 
over the indirect discourse, and trembling before the 
intricacies of the subjective dative, notwithstanding the 
aid of the benign Anthon which, though prescribed, he 
secretly invoked. What though he mouthed his Greek 
like a Boeotian taunted by the polite Athenians. Still he 


A lVOMAJ\r OF SOJ^Ei:. 


58 

was their iEneas, their Dux, their leader, and each one 
longed to attain the lofty distinction of being his fidus 
Achates. 

And his disposition did not repel them ; but was a 
puissant auxiliary to his popularity. It was kindly and 
equable. He was never irritable, for his nerves were 
as unknown to him as was his pancreas. He despised 
a dispute or a discussion ; for it was a waste of time, 
and time meant opportunity for enjoyment He was 
tolerant in his strength like a mastiff, and slow to anger ; 
for his passions, though violent, were sluggish. He 
was neither cunning nor strategic in his methods ; for 
his thoughts and expectations were as open as the 
expression of his face. Motives he had not His 
character was as simple and as limpid as a mountain 
stream before it crosses civilization’s path. Thought 
never disturbed him ; for his thoughtfulness consisted 
either of pleasurable anticipations or of delightful rem- 
iniscences. His will was his master, and the impossi- 
bilities of life had not yet impaired the temper of his 
spirit The powerful set of his jaws, the sturdiness of 
his figure, which lacked sufficient height to grace its 
massiveness, all denoted tenacity and endurance. 
Linked with ambition, his inherent forces would have 
dragged him to any goal ; but they were lulled and 
smothered by content He loved the dust of a physical 
contest, and the fierce pulse of his blood heated by 
impetuous exertion. But when it was over, he loved, 
the best of all, to lie stretched upon the sward, and to 
listen to the hum of nature, and to bask in that same 
sunlight that had nourished the naked limbs of the 
Greeks, and to feel the restful quiet of its kiss steal 
through his members and the dusk of slumber to darken 
his vision, and to haply weave those reflections that are 
sisters to dreams. 

His code of morals was limited and concise ; but he 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


59 


was most scrupulous in his observance of its tenets. 
Its disciples were many among his comrades ; for the 
trend of their education fostered it. It was to be loyal 
to one’s friends, never to lie to them, to be manly and 
plucky and unshrinking from pain and hardship, and 
finally to do all forbidden things the performance of 
which did not conflict with any of these precepts. So 
many were the nights that George had staggered to his 
bed, and had felt it revolve in ceaseless gyrations as it 
artfully eluded the rapidly pursuing bookcase and pic- 
tures that had deserted their accustomed posts upon the 
wall; and deep were his potations of beer and whis- 
key, which would have been naturally distasteful to his 
healthy appetite were not they smuggled, and sweetened 
by the elixir of disobedience and danger of detection. 
Many were the nights that with valiant reliance in him- 
self, he had tramped the long solitary road from Simp- 
ington after a midnight dance with the mill hands, his 
way lightened by the music of careless laughter that 
lingered in his ears, and by the remembrance of the 
caresses that still bedewed his lips. 

O, forbidden fruit of Eden, thy exquisite flavor still 
tempts, thy fairness still bewilders ! Were thy allure- 
ments as distasteful as thy effects are bitter, the curtain 
would quickly unroll upon the tragedy of life ! 

George was endowed with a clear bass voice whose 
vibrations resembled the rumble of distant thunder, and 
quivered the chords of sympathy within the sweep of 
its waves. His memory was well stored with ditties 
about a glass and a lass, and the true joys that love 
will bring, and the kisses of maidens fair ; and he sung 
them with such relish and keenness of appreciation that 
his boyish auditors believed that experience inspired his 
tones. Nor did this reputation injure him in their favor- 
ing eyes. It was but another leaf of laurel in the 
wreath with which their Ceesar was crowned. 


60 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


Besides the classics arouse amativeness. If they 
evolve any influence, it is essentially sensuous. The 
tales of the loves of the gods and the godesses, of 
Venus and the doughty Mars discovered within the net 
by the wily Vulcan, of Leda embracing the swan, of 
the gentle Europa fleeing in vain, of Diana caressing 
the sleeping shepherd, of Ariadne bemoaning the touch 
of the faithless Bacchus, of Dido in the thunderstorm 
seeking refuge within the cave, of Perseus bearing 
through the air the naked form of the clinging Andro- 
meda, of the infamy of Clytemnestra, and of the insane 
lust of Pasiphae ; these are the oases within the desert 
wilds of syntax, whose fertility refreshes the weary 
plodder and the remembrance of the sweetness of whose 
waters clings, when datives and aorists and subjunctives 
are but names of forgotten guide-posts. 

O grim old Puritan, mouldering in thy self-assured 
complacency, the particles of thy dust would repel each 
other with horror couldst thou know the iniquities of 
that ancient world which thy thrift hath outspread before 
these wondering lads, whose knowledge of evil exceeds 
that which threescore of years brought to thee ! The 
painful thrust of thy mattock hath laid bare many a 
marble resplendent in its shameless unchastity ! 

Achilles had his Briseis, and Numa his Egeria, and 
Hercules his Omphale, and Ulysses his Calypso ; 
surely it was fitting that George Dome, their counterpart, 
should prove irresistible to the village beauties, and 
that the rumor of his conquests, flying from lip to lip in 
youthful exaggeration, should magnify his heroic pro- 
portions. And there was a foundation of fact to these 
rumors, which the boys knew as well as they knew 
that their own narratives were as unsubstantial as the 
visions that fright can conjure. For they all boasted ot 
their exceeding gallantry and powers of fascination. 
Even those who had cowered before Marcia’s glance 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


6l 


when she had entered the room, and had failed to find 
the appropriate word or to conceive the apposite thought 
until it was too late ; when relieved from such embar- 
rassment, could rival the tales of Bocacchio and of Mar- 
garet of Navarre in the relating of their own brief ex- 
perience. Even the rosy-cheeked, fair-haired little lad, 
who still covertly regretted the touch of his mother s 
gentle fingers in his morning toilet, and who often at 
night cried himself to sleep as he thought of her, assum- 
ed the confident tones of the roue, and enunciated pre- 
cepts that his success had proven and found most 
potent 

Grave men of business, befogged by the hum-drum 
of life, will brighten under the sparks of salaciousness. 
These boys overflowing with vigor and with the red 
blood of youth, inhaled romanticism and sensuousness. 
Of course it kindled their imagination, and directed 
their thoughts and conversation. But what they se- 
cretly doubted in each other, they all implicitly believed 
in George. And since he achieved and they pretended, 
they worshipped him the more, and he gained an air of 
assurance and boldness that to the sensitive would have 
been repulsive, had not the glamour of youth trans- 
formed it. 

So when Marcia had appeared within their boarding 
house, like a tender flower blooming in the waste of a 
gravel pit, he had met her carelessly and indifferently, 
but without self-consciousness or embarrassment. At 
first, he had accosted her with that apathy, which he 
imagined age and association would inspire within her 
towards him, for he was proud of his independence, 
and though she seemed to be a queen, he scorned the 
sway of her sceptre. But at length the frequency of 
their encounters, and the magnetism of sex, concentrated 
his interest. For passion is contagious, and nature pro- 
vides no quarantine for its avoidance 


62 


A WOMAN OF SOF£A\ 



The fairies that attended the birth of George had be- 
stowed upon him bold, dancing, laughing eyes. His 
glance could awaken mirth without occasion. Their 
directness disconcerted Marcia ; and when she was 
alone, she confessed to herself that their slumbering 
power fascinated her. Their sparkle said, “ When I 
choose I will,” and she read, within them, thoughts far 
too deep to have been conceived within the inactivity 
of his mind. Nor was this entirely the freak of girlish 
imagination. His control over his comrades often ex- 
ceeded their regard or his express intention. There 
was a masterful quality about him, which he exerted, 
even though he recognized it not. His father was a 
physician, tucked away in a little village within the 
furthermost angle of the State, yet his fame had spread 
fan-like through it. He was old fashioned and bigoted, 
and rightly classed within the oldest of the old school ; 
yet he fulfilled his mission, he cured. His powers of 
diagnosis were intuitive and apparently miraculous, his 
control over his patients was absolute. Hysteria and 
mania and all of that ghastly host, who prey at once 
upon body and mind, vanished before the cold steely 
rays of his eyes. He was a healer, saving not through 
the stored knowledge of experience and laborious re- 
search, but through the forces that nature had centered 
within him. Now his son resembled him and was a 
part of him, as the sapling opposes to the storm the 
vigor of the oak. And though he appreciated it not, for 
frivolity, and not contemplation, was his vassal, the 
spark of rulership glowed brightly within him. 

George had been born in this petty country town, and 
had spent his boyhood days with its children. The beau- 
ties of the grammatical correctness of English speech, 
though carefully inculcated within his mind, never over- 
came the ascendency of their peculiar colloquy. Habit 
conquered knowledge, and the rusticity of his tongue 


A WOMAN OF SOFFN. 


was a characteristic as quickly recognizable as the ring 
of his laughter or the heartiness of his greeting. It was 
always remembered of him, and related with a regretful 
seriousness, within whose shadow merriment lurked, 
that when the great game of baseball was played be- 
tween the Academy nine, and those supernal beings 
who represented the University, when each boy simu- 
lated the carriage and the grace of an admitted fresh- 
man, and dignity stalked among them, a grateful ally, that 
after an exceptionally good play by one upon his side, 
when the silence which follows a burst of applause had 
barely settled, he had sung out to the successful player 
in his most stentorian tones which rang in the ears of 
those watching at the extreme confines of the campus : 
“Jim, you done good" ; and mortification tempered the 
joys of their victory. Yet even this defect, humiliating 
as it would be to others, troubled him not ; while it 
afforded amusement and interest to his listeners and 
enchained their attention. 

Indeed, all of these peculiar features which undoubt- 
edly would, as maturity established her immobility upon 
him, render him self-assertive, mouthy and objectiona- 
ble to every one except to himself, now in his tender 
years gave to him a piquancy and a charm that was 
almost invincible. For boyishness is a mirror that re- 
flects every aspect in fresh sweet colors. He was so 
healthful, he was so happy. Each day winged its hours 
with pleasures that fled not until others fluttered within 
view. Each night, the anticipations of the morrow 
courted balmy dreams. He never knew a pain nor an 
ache, and trouble like an unwelcome guest, never 
aroused the echoes of sadness by its knock at his door. 
For thought invites trouble. At all hours, his laughter 
resounded throughout the village. And the staidest old 
farmer, whose only expectations were toil, as he labored 
in the field, felt the rigid corners of his grim compressed 


64 


A WOMAJ^ OF SOREJiT. 


mouth relax against his will and curl in grudging unison, 
as he muttered to himself : “There's that young rascal 
'Buck' Dome agin." It is said that the gods protect 
sailors and children, they are so helpless and irrespon- 
sible. If they do, and it is an employment far more 
fitting than that ascribed to them by the classic poets, 
they surely watched over him for he was much more 
regardless of consequences than are they. In any un- 
dertaking which vagrant fancy induced him to attempt, 
he merely said to himself : “ I’ll come out all right," and 
dismissed further worry from his mind. He had been 
taught at his mothers knee that he had within himself 
a certain guide, his conscience, which would distinguish 
for him the right from the wrong ; and he believed her, 
for her words were as manifest to him as was the light 
of the sun. Yet this secret monitor was as unknown to 
him as was his God, and the voice of each was dumb. 

Unquestionably, remorse could shakehis composure; 
but this remorse must arise from the unpleasant results 
of discovery. But as yet exposure had never appre- 
hended him. So, too, the fear of death might quench his 
ardor ; but sound nerves had consigned it to that distant 
future within whose obscurity senility skulks. That 
period which marks the commencement of life had not 
yet conquered him, when the possibilities of eternity 
are realized. He was still a child, sold into captivity, 
playing the live-long day before his enemy’s tent, un- 
conscious that the altar which would redden with his 
blood, from the height of the frowning hill casts its 
shadow athwart his path. His imperfections were as 
many as are the waves that break upon the sands ; yet 
like them they sparkled with the glitter of juvenility. 

O, joyous thoughtlessness of youth, it is thy magic 
alone that can create the Portunate Isles, or people 
Utopia ! Too soon will come the pressing ills of life, 
and the unknown dread of its ending. Too soon the 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC. 65 

shrinkings of midnight will banish sleep, the protracted 
ticked-out minutes will generate fear, the countings of 
the pulse and the intermitting beatings of the heart will 
foretell mortality! Too soon existence which has been 
so gladsome, will become most horrible, because it is 
shown to be unsought and enforced, and yet not so 
horrible as the uncertainties of eternity 1 Laugh on, 
poor lad, rejoice in thy petty strength. Love and revel 
and weave into garlands the roses that time now showers 
upon thee ! Happy art thou if, in thy contentment, un- 
ceasing slumber shalt enfold thee ! Happy, if thou 
shalt thus escape the quickening flight of shortening 
hours and the creeping twilight of unending night I 
5 


66 


A WOMAN OJi' SOkEA\ 


CHAPTER VI. 

^‘Naomee,” ^‘Naomee,” rang through the house from 
earliest cock-crow, until the breakfast was served upon 
the table. The voice of Mrs. Clenton, like Macbeth, 
murdered sleep. It was anomalous in its hideousness. 
No such distinctive sound had ever startled the air, since 
the song of the morning star. It combined the stridency 
of beaten tin, with the squalk of the peacock. Before it 
all space vanished, and it pierced doors and walls with 
utmost ease. No need was there of gong or bell to 
arouse the slumbering boys. The cry of “Naomee,” 
“ Naomee," like “The voice of that wild horn on Font- 
arabian echoes borne,'’ stirred all into action. 

Like the majority of shrill musical instruments, Mrs. 
Clenton was diminutive in size. Time seemed to compress 
her, as costly fabrics are carefully stored for future use. 
Her activity was so ceaseless, that it would have over- 
come any tendency towards adipose tissue; but she had 
no such tendency. She was naturally a female. Cassius. 
It is possible that in her youth she had been sprightly 
and winning, that her eyes had been bright, not eager, 
and that her nose had been a pure specimen of the 
classic Roman-type, and not a beak ever seeking closer 
communion with her chin. It is possible that her end- 
less volubility was then entertaining in its childish sim- 
plicity, and that there had really been a touch of tender- 
ness in her tones when she had addressed the late 


A WOMAN OF SOREIC. 


67 

lamented “J. M.”, as she had invariably termed her 
spouse, — his name by the way was John Milton Clen- 
ton, but she deemed it to be incompatible with his low- 
liness of spirit — who, but a few years after he had 
attained the supreme felicity of “Our being all in all to 
each other, of constant companionship, and of journey- 
ing down life’s pathway hand in hand together, darling,” 
as he had frequently said and fondly dreamed during 
the linked sweetness of their courtship, had become so 
dejected over his sorry lot that he had died from grief. 
Possibly her spring-time had possessed some kindliness, 
and girlhood, its ordinary enchantment, for it is written 
that all things are possible ; but certain it is that at this 
period of her earthly probation, ‘ ‘ Mammy ” Clenton was 
well described by the boys as a “Holy Terror,” the 
adjective in this instance being purely intensitive, and 
not denoting any sacred significance. 

Her main characteristic was greed ; and her boarding- 
house for students, “Where good wholesome food was 
supplemented by the influence of a Christian home and 
by motherly care,” was its outward manifestation. 
Those who entered there left all hope behind, and those 
who came to scoff remained to prey with all of the fero- 
city that unappeased hunger breeds, upon the insufficient 
comestibles which she grudgingly supplied. For the 
system prevailed at Armway, and the beauties of its dis- 
advantages could be discoursed upon by the volume, 
that students upon their entrance into the Academy 
should be assigned to definite boarding-houses, and 
there should remain during the entire course. Now 
Mrs. Clenton was socially strong. She was a widow, 
with one fatherless daughter striving meekly to bear her 
yoke, and to ^‘git along.” And “git along” she did. 
Her house was as full, as her boarders were not. She 


68 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


was regarded as easily first among the others of her 
craft in the village, who recognized her as their g^and 
high priestess, and who were willing proselytes to her 
cult She established a tariff of prices, and a code of 
rules and regimen ; and woe betide the unfortunate 
female who ventured to err upon the side of mercy. As 
the vestal virgins were most vindictive towards their 
fallen sister, so these good women would have spattered 
one so base with the foulest ignominy. Mrs. Clenton 
knew all of the tricks of her trade, and practised them. 
Damaged goods were her delight. She could, or she 
thought she could, and this answered her purpose fully 
as well, freshen meat, and rejuvenate eggs with vinegar, 
and eradicate the mould from flour, and work lard into 
butter. She could calculate to a nicety the exact addi- 
tion of chiccory and bread crumbs, that coffee could 
stand and still remain coffee, and how much sand, brown 
sugar could sweeten. She was a mathematical wonder 
in determining the greatest common divisor for occa- 
sional pastry, and the least common multiple for oil and 
wood. 

“Naomee ” was her daughter. Perhaps if her father 
had ever known of her existence, his grief would have 
been less selfish and violent. But before she was born, 
six months of seclusion beneath the cheap flatteries of a 
broken column had been his lot Possibly the pin- 
cushioned front that now maintained a metallic rigidity 
had then been a cradle rocked by the billows of love. 
For maternity will mollify the rage of the tigress. But 
since she had first stepped from the unknown sea upon 
memory’s shore, Naomi had advanced from the neglect 
of childhood into a condition of unceasing drudgery. 
Her days were rounded by labor, which she performed 
without a murmur. She saved for her mother the wages 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EA-. 


69 

of a dozen scullions, and to avoid the expense of one, 
her mother would have imperilled her soul’s salvation. 
No sensation of shame stung this modern Cornelia, who 
so assiduously cherished her one precious jewel, as she 
saw her straining her young frame over the toils of the 
kitchen, or arranging the rooms of great growing boys. 
She only lifted her heart in thanksgiving for the bless- 
ings that motherhood had vouchsafed her, and allotted 
still another task. 

But fortunately Naomi derived many advantages and 
no detriment from her necessarily close association with 
the students who boarded with her mother. They 
never molested her ; for at first sympathy, and then af- 
fection, restrained the rudest She was a sister to those 
who had known her for the longest time, attending to 
their wants with sisterly affection and solicitude ; and 
evil had befallen the new-comer who dared to think 
evil of her. The tense lines of her life had not im- 
pressed their traceries upon Naomi. Like the edelweiss, 
the rocks and the storms endowed her with ideality. 
Her complexion was as fair and as milky as is the 
fleecy little cloud that heightens the serenity of a per- 
fect summer day by daring to break the all-pervading 
cerulean hues of the ether. Varying exertion had un- 
folded and rounded her figure, and had accentuated its 
natural elegance by suppleness and strength. Her 
hands, though slightly roughened, were exquisitely 
small. They tapered with the grace of a Spanish glove, 
and were dimpled by the kisses of childhood. Beneath 
her broad low forehead, her nut-brown eyes spoke 
frankness and purity in tones that exceeded semblance. 
Her unrestrained intercourse with the boys had sharp- 
ened her faculties, and had given the keenness of a 
rapier to her wit. From them too she had derived the 


A tVOMAAT OF SOJ^^r. 


70 

taste and opportunity for reading ; and many were the 
midnight hours which she had snatched from deserving 
rest, to gain from the poets and the novelists new 
friends, whose companionship would gild the toilsome 
hours of the morrow. She was thus able to join in 
their conversation with a knowledge and a zest that 
was even more valuable to her mother in her successful 
management of the boarding-house, than was what the 
boys called “ Her pull with the pantry.” 

Naomi was cheerful of disposition, and challenged 
trouble with a laugh. She was confiding and trustful 
to the innermost chords of her heart And upon these 
qualities depended her vigor and vitality. Her faith in 
her friends sustained her as did the oxygen in the air ; 
and should she lose either she would speedily fade 
away. For her health was relative, it was rooted upon 
the buoyancy of her spirit, and this was preserved by 
her belief in goodness. 

In the long hours of her work, she had woven many 
a romance with her brain as busily engaged as were 
her hands. The sharp actualities of her life, and the 
sentimentalism of her reading diverted the current of 
her reveries towards the ideal. She longed for rest, for 
the extinguishment of physical force, and for the com- 
munion of soul that mental identity can afford. If she 
could only be removed to some Isle of the Blest where 
soft perfumed zephyrs would waft dreamy harmonies 
over her, where no sound would arrive save the fan- 
ning of the wings of richly plumed birds, the nodding 
and the bending of flowers and the drip of dulcet cas- 
cade ; and if amid such scenes, that other should come, 
of pure and noble disposition, linked by sympathy and 
affinity to her, who would read her thoughts and 
motives because he knew his own, how happy she 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


71 


would be ! And irresistibly would appear before her, 
a tall haggard form in priestly garb, with pale and rigid 
face, and eyes of deep and fathomless melancholy. 
For the hero of her innocent little fantasy was always 
Jonas Chidsy. 

Although his friendship was distant, and tempered 
with indifference, and although he only distinguished 
her from the multitude of pious women who delighted 
to foster the church by pampering its disciples, by the 
remembrance of one incident, and that the help which 
her earnest sympathy had rendered him in a moment 
of trial ; she felt and believed that their hopes and as- 
pirations were in accord, and that she clearly dis- 
cerned the beauty and strength of his exceptional 
character. She had watched him upon his solitary 
walks, as with head bowed low and measured step, he 
had strode along, the personification of exalted medita- 
tion. She had studied him at service in the chapel. 
She had marked the pressure of his hands upon his 
face, and had counted the tears that trickled between 
his fingers. He represented to her a type of godly 
manhood far removed from her surroundings. His 
austerity spiritualized him. She arrayed his scant 
nature in the choicest robes of her chaste imagination. 
She made unto herself an image of goodness and truth 
graven in his likeness, and she fell down and worship- 
ped it 

When Marcia had arrived in Armway, and had per- 
ceived how hardly used was her little cousin, her 
sympathy was unbounded and many were her prof- 
fers of assistance. She would lighten her burdens, 
and the hours thus gained would glow with the pleas- 
ures of friendship. The intimacy between them de- 
veloped as rapidly as did Jonah s gourd, or Aladdin's 


72 


A WOMAN OF SOREir, 


palace. Like all girlish affections, it was distinguished 
by those firm attributes that reasonably promise endur- 
ance. Night after night, wrapped in each other’s arms, 
their guileless blushes hidden by the mantle of dark- 
ness, they exchanged the closest confidences. And 
pure and simple as had ever been Naomi’s thoughts and 
anticipations, they were exceeded in their immaculate- 
ness by the ennobled expressions of her cousin. So 
much so that she felt that she was shamed by such 
surpassing excellence, and excoriated her ingenuous 
little heart on account of its inherent turpitude. 

Thus it was that Marcia heard of Jonas, and obtained 
so exaggerated a view of his character. Sweet, indeed, 
was this communion to Naomi ; but soon, alas, the 
blighting frost of distrust nipped this blooming plant of 
affection. For the first time in her life, she suspected 
sincerity. This doubt, from the faintest breath, gradu- 
ally enlarged into a thick cloud that overcast her mind 
and sickened her with its gloom. The intensity of her 
delight agonized the discovery of falsity. Yet it was 
inevitable ; for Marcia, though anxious to retain good 
will, was far too selfish and slothful to express her com- 
miseration by deeds. Blinded as her cousin was by 
credulity, she could not fail to discern the contrast be- 
tween honeyed words and heedless exactions that re- 
doubled her daily task. Besides Marcia had always 
been possessed by a mocking imp of ridicule, who loved 
without apparent design, to gibe, to stab and to pain, 
and whose impetuosity often conquered her judgment. 
Naomi’s unintentional display of cheerfulness and purity 
would sometimes exasperate her beyond control, and 
then a sneer or an ironical thrust would betray her. 
Moreover, Naomi was sagacious. For years she had 
trained herself to study the faces and ascertain the 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


73 

qualities of newly-arrived scholars. Now that mistrust 
directed her attention, she remarked many inconsist- 
encies between Marcia’s portrait of herself which she 
had so devotedly admired, and the real Marcia. Her 
clear intellect solved her motives, and fathomed her 
glances and interpreted the purposes of the artless 
audacity which occasionally indicated her postures and 
speech. So coldness separated the hearts that had 
throbbed in such tender concert, and the midnight 
whisperings were stilled. But Naomi had opened the 
door of her most secret shrine, and had displayed its 
treasures to irreverent and covetous eyes. 

When, through her accident, Marcia had encountered 
Jonas, she had recognized him at once and had readily 
appreciated how his appearance alone, working upon 
the fancy of an unsophisticated young girl, had pro- 
duced the flattering picture which had been exhibited 
to her. Innate craving for worshipful attention joined 
with a strong desire to mortify and distress her cousin, 
had urged her upon his subjugation. She would prove 
to her that this saintly and soulful young man would 
yield an obeisance to her beauty, that prudishness had 
failed to obtain. For she appreciated that it was not 
her selflshness alone that had alienated her cousin. 
She feared that she was known, she, who had always 
draped herself within the veil of purity ; and she vowed 
that rued should be the day of her discovery. She ob- 
served that Jonas had the diffidence of conceit, and that 
his shallow mind would never find anything unnatural 
or ludicrous in that which appealed to his hidden pride 
and self-importance. She was too sceptical of virtue, 
to believe in the honesty of his devotion, and where 
Naomi had painted a halo, she detected the fastenings of 
a mask. Each one according to her disposition, had 


74 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


erred in her judgment, though Marcia had closely 
grazed the truth. She was mistaken only in thinking 
that Jonas was conscious of his own hypocrisy. The 
idea of appointing him her own especial confessor 
and spiritual adviser, had flashed across her mind 
with the spontaneity of genius. She had trembled 
to venture upon its suggestion, and had been amazed 
at the voracity with which it was swallowed. Was 
it possible that so absolute a dolt existed ! Vistas of 
interest expanded before her, and Armway assumed a 
rakish air of pleasure. That very night, she wrote to 
her father that her aunt had entreated her to extend her 
visit, and that she deemed it to be her duty to do so. 

It was on the following morning, that the particular 
cry of “Naomee,” “ Naomee,” which was mentioned 
in the beginning of this chapter, had echoed throughout 
the house. Soon the hustling tramp of the boys, in the 
halls and down the carpetless stairs, announced the ad- 
vent of breakfast. A hungry lot they were. Not even 
the disfavor and actual consternation expressed upon 
the acidulous countenance of Mrs. Clenton could stay 
their avidity, or chill their fervor. Great piles of soggy 
smoking biscuits, more fitting food for a Gatling gun 
than for mortal stomach, disappeared as though they 
were the most fragile of pastry ; and the demand for a 
highly odoriferous preparation of corned beef exceeded 
the supply. Mrs. Clenton sat at the head of the table, 
surrounded by chipped earthenware which might have 
contained the rations of Noah’s sons during their voyage 
to Ararat. Like an elderly Hebe about to strike for 
more wages, she reluctantly dispensed from the broken 
stem of a blue and white coffee pot, whose cover was 
secured by a piece of pink tape, the delectable fluid 
whose savory fumes made the young Christian Arab 


A PVOMAJV OP SOREK. 


75 

student who had been sent hither to receive the benefits 
of a higher civilization, homesick ; and whose pungency 
and flavor she frequently modified by a dash of pure 
hot water. In and out of the door, leading into the 
kitchen, passed and repassed Naomi ; her sleeves rolled 
up above the dimples of her elbows, revealing her 
pretty white arms, as comely and as clear as is fleece 
after a bath in the brook, with here and there flecks of 
flour upon them. Her face was flushed with the blaze 
of the cooking ; and around her head a handkerchief 
was bound, from beneath which a few moist curls had 
escaped, and were reposing within the swell of her 
neck. 

Suddenly the clamor of laughter and the clatter of 
dishes ceased, as Marcia entered, and slowly and in- 
dolently glided down the room to her seat by her aunt’s 
side. Every movement redounded with the grace that 
knows no concern nor premeditation. Her little feet 
twinkled beneath the diaphanous snow of her draperies 
discreetly foreshadowing her shapeliness, and then 
shyly retreating. The lace that clung to her bosom, 
ignorant of the envy its inert happiness inspired, ex- 
posed a glimpse of pearly shoulders as she bent in 
salutation. She seemed to be the embodiment of 
seductive simplicity. Every attribute was so chaste, so 
refined, so pure ; yet her eyes were so brilliant with 
crystaline dew, and her lips were so crimson. 

Marcia,” said George looking up from a vast bowl 
of oatmeal, and milk that was melancholy in its blue- 
ness, which he was rapidly assimilating, “ It don’t 
seem to me that there is any reasonable cause for all 
this anxiety of the United States government over the 
decay of the navy, and the lack of available seamen. ” 

Now what extraordinary nonsense are you going to 


A WOMAN OF SOREIC, 


76 

utter, you silly boy. You quite startle one with youl 
abruptness. You should have a bell, and ring it thrice, 
and thus give us time to prepare for a shock, ” she re^ 
plied, smiling celestially upon him, as angels smile 
when they witness a generous act, and noting with 
satisfaction the dangerous dance of his eyes sparkling 
with suppressed fun. 

Mrs. Clenton sighed with relief and glanced approv- 
ingly about her board. She earnestly commended any 
attempt towards serious conversation. It conferred an 
air of dignity and scholarly reserve, and it stifled 
hunger. Laughter acted too directly upon the gastric 
nerves. She would rather have none of it Besides 
she considered that loud expressions of hilarity within 
the house of one whose lamented husband had been 
a pillar of the church, and who had in her own feeble 
way striven to befit herself for heavenly wedlock, 
were unseemly and sinful. So she welcomed this un- 
wonted seriousness in George as a sign, perhaps, of a 
change of heart 

‘‘Why,’' continued George looking towards his dish, 
“ Even we could supply the naval department with 
lots of skippers, and not miss ’em. ” 

Shouts and roars of mirth arose from the boys who in 
union found courage. The lines of the widow’s face 
deepened and grew more tense ; and a shrewish fire 
shot from her eyes, which usually slept in a cod-fishy 
composure. Her false teeth clicked as she pressed her 
tongue against them in the preliminary labors of her re- 
proof. Yet as she remembered the regular remittances 
with which Dome’s father rewarded her faithfulness, 
she pursed her lips more tightly together, and hurried 
with her coffee-pot out of the room; and the boys whom 
she served upon her return had “grounds” to regret 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


77 

their ill-timed audacity. Marcia's laughter rippled like 
the music of vibrating glass. She knew that its merri- 
ment was contagious, so she prolonged it She had 
watched her cousin through the open door, and had 
keenly enjoyed the mortification that clouded her face. 
She realized that her presence and participation in the 
jest had intensified it, and this thought filled her with 
joy. Besides she stood in wholesome awe of her aunt, 
who had already given her as an unsought gift, what 
she called a ‘‘dressing down”; and she was pleased 
with George's fearlessness. 

Her attraction towards him increased. How roguish 
he was and how potent was his drollery ! She was 
sitting beside him at the table, and, as he rolled back 
in his chair exhausted with the violence of his enjoy- 
ment, she felt his careless pressure upon her. She 
timidly touched him with the tip of her slipper. He 
glanced toward her, and as he did so his eyelids opened 
widely with an almost defiant boldness. The power of 
its challenge made the hot blood surge through her 
cheeks, and scorched them as though they had been 
blistered by a tropical sun. She quickly drew back ; 
and George, turning away, resumed with stolidity those 
feats of mastication, in which, like his friends the ancient 
Greeks, he excelled. She was disquieted, and she 
despised herself because this was so. She had weaved 
a spell, and had been caught within its meshes. In the 
presence of his uncouthness she lost her mental equili- 
brium. With more haste than her elegance required, 
she left the room which she had entered with the tran- 
quillity of superiority ; and in the seclusion of her own 
apartment she strove to calm the ranging emotions that 
so combated her pride. 


78 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Naomi, dressed in her plain suit of gray whose neat- 
ness would have stirred the emulation of a quakeress, 
with a bunch of violets budding and expiring beneath 
her throat, passed down the broad street under the 
towering elms. She had escaped for an afternoon from 
her eternal thraldom, and though she was only on her 
way to perform certain missions for her mother, her 
heart beat in quickening pulsations with the joy of so 
unusual a liberty. The timid flowers that symbolized 
her nature in their delicacy and trust, she had plucked 
from the only useless spot within the grim old garden 
which surrounded her home. All else was devoted to 
the cultivation of product, none of which, it is unneces- 
sary to state astonished the boys with its freshness, but 
invariably became grist for the insatiable mill of the 
great city. This little flower-bed was a relic of the 
mild sentimentalism of her father, who had planted it 
years before, and had watered it with his tears. And 
the fact that it would probably cost more to uproot it 
than the resulting profits would warrant, had caused his 
widow to preserve it in loving memory. It had always 
been a chosen retreat for Naomi, who had carefully 
tended it during the moments which she stole from her 
set tasks. For it seemed to her that the gentle plants 
partook of the properties of that dead parent whom she 
had never seen, but who, she believed, would, if his 


A IVOA/AAr OF SO/^EA'-. 


79 

sensibilities could have withstood the dash of disaster, 
have loved and cherished her. At her approach they 
shook away the dew-drops, and reared their fragile 
stems, and caressed her with the essence of their aroma. 

The silence was the hush of an all-pervading voice, 
as she walked along. And the click, click, of her tiny 
heels seemed to be the unwelcomed herald of an 
intruder. The white houses, square as had been the 
principles of their makers, brooded in dignified retire- 
ment from the road, behind the protecting shrubbery. 
Not a green blind was thrown open, but all were tightly 
drawn as though the wind and the sunlight were as 
dangerous foes as had been the lurking red Indians to 
the log cabins that had preceded them. On the left 
hand, stretched away the broad expanse of the campus, 
that spot most sacred to the boys ; bounded by the 
fences, cleanly with white-wash, in the rear of these 
stately old dwellings, by the grimy rows of small dun- 
colored buildings which comprised the “Commons,” 
where those of the students who desired lodgings utterly 
devoid of comfort and conveniences could be satisfac- 
torily accommodated, and by the dark wooded eleva- 
tion known throughout the country far and near as the 
“ Mountain, ” which extended away for miles and miles, 
a wilderness of thick underbrush and of tall pines and 
hemlocks, until it capped the clouds near the edge of 
the horizon. 

The Academy campus was an institution at Arm way 
which derived its interest and influence from age alone, 
and which could not have been furnished ready made. 
For there are certain qualities that money cannot pur- 
chase for mushroom colleges and schools. Minerva 
sprang full grown from the head of Jove ; but time has 
always been the most skilful builder of her temples. 


8o 


A WOMAN OF SOKEA'. 


Around this spot, which was essentially their own, the 
boys had built a high wall of imagination and tradition ; 
and he who dared to o’er leap it in derision, courted 
the fate of Remus. Here their feet trod upon their 
native heath. Here it was that their great victories had 
been achieved and their defeats pluckily sustained. 
Here the famous “rushes” had occurred, when the 
opposing masses of stalwart young manhood had 
crushed together in gigantic pressure, and, when one 
side had sullenly yielded its footing, had separated into 
groups engaged in hand to hand conflicts which had 
strewn its sacred sward with the shreds of clothing. 
Here their heroes had accomplished those deeds ot 
“ Dering'do/^ which were immortalized in class his- 
tories and poems. And here it was, when the sun in 
its dying glory was tinging with the touch of autumn 
the towering pines upon the wooded hills, and the long 
lined shadows lay thickly upon the field weaving and 
inter-weaving like the crossings of an etcher's needle, 
when the breeze stole up from the river cooled by the 
breath of the dewy daisies upon its banks, and the 
great red moon slowly climbed its first ascent, that the 
boys would gather, squatting like Indians around a 
camp fire, or lying at full length upon its gentle bosom ; 
and the merry jest and tale would pass from one to 
another, and the old songs would be sung again, those 
songs that exhaled friendship and love and revelry, that 
vivified the memories of the campus and extolled its 
traditions. 

Besides it was their palladium and their sanctuary. It 
was the undoubted belief of all that within its precincts, 
the local authorities were as powerless as was the con- 
stabulary of London, in the days of Nigel of Glenvarloch, 
within the wild confines of Alsatia; that the fence 


A IVOMAN OF SOREA'. 


8l 


marked the jurisdiction of the village ; and that once 
over it, the fugitive student could with impunity deride 
his pursuers, as he was then only amenable to acad- 
emical discipline. Nor was this belief impressed solely 
upon the minds of the boys ; it was also the common 
report and understanding of the township ; and the 
selectmen would have debated long and earnestly, and 
would have exhausted all mediation through the faculty, 
before they would have ordered their formidable 

posse comitatus” to violate its privileges. And cer- 
tain it is that the boys would have resisted so impious 
an invasion with all of the ardor that actuated their 
forefathers in repudiating the impost upon tea, or that 
frenzies priests in averting a sacrilege. For once, when 
a great pile of abandoned straw mattresses had been 
thoroughly saturated with kerosene oil, and under the 
security of a starless night had been arranged in a clas- 
sic pyre in the rear of the Academy, and the torch had 
been applied, and the villagers in the valley below see- 
ing the shooting flames through its windows had con- 
cluded that the building was burning, and the bells had 
excitedly clanged, and the independent fire company 
had intrepidly dragged their heavy machine to the brow 
of the hill, only to be greeted by cat-calls and ironical 
expressions of advice from the domains of the commons ; 
then, when they had indignantly rushed upon the 
campus, and had scattered the deceiving brands, the 
school cry had shrilly resounded upon the astounded 
air, and great strife had arisen, and banger and trumpet 
had crossed to the damage of many a poll, as is to this 
day related both by the gossips of the “Daown taown 
tavern ”, and by the historians and bards of the 
Academy. 

A narrow path led within its borders, along the whit- 

6 


82 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


ened fences, and connected the roadways at either end ; 
and the use of this was by courtesy extended to the fam- 
ilies of the members of the faculty, and to ladies. 

But it was the unwritten law^ as firmly founded as is 
Britannia s Constitution, that no “Townie,'' as the youth 
of the village were termed, and especially that no 
“ Theologue" should set foot upon its sacred soil. For 
between the boys of the Academy and the students of 
the Theological Seminary, as bitter and intense a hatred 
existed, as ever armed aristocrats and helots. Perhaps 
the use of the preposition “Between” in the preceding 
sentence is disingenuous, since it indicates that both 
parties were actuated by this passion. The former, 
certainly, vaunted their vindictiveness; but the latter 
repudiated any emotion stronger than an ever present 
sense of mild and contemptuous superiority. Now the 
boys despised those traits of character which are most 
aptly described by the adjectives “meek and lowly.” 
It was seldom that one of them announced his intention 
of fitting himself for the career of a clergyman ; yet the 
future lots that fate would throw for them were fer- 
tile subjects of discussion, and the merits and demerits 
of all other professions were actively canvassed. But 
when an unfrequent voice was raised in support of the 
most holy of callings, it generally emanated from a weak 
vessel of the namby-pamby, milk-and-water type, whose 
energies were exhausted in the struggles of riding the 
waves of life. Unfortunately a catarrhal cough and re- 
ligion seemed to them to be as intimately connected as 
are cause and effect Besides, at Arm way, the Theologues 
were social favorites and the boys were not They 
were the rulers of decorous feasts, and the heroes of read- 
ing circles, where they complacently received as their 
rightful tribute the homage of earnest young girls, who. 


A WOMAN OP SOREK, 


83 


like Naomi, were stimulated by ideality. They were 
boarded at reduced rates, and not on account of their 
immateriality either, for their hunger was ever an apt 
simile for magnitude ; and sometimes even they were 
allowed to balance this by services rendered in the line 
of carving and asking grace. They received eleemosy- 
nary aid also, and collection plates were passed for 
their benefit, and the ladies^ sewing club forestalled the 
severity of winter for them by timely contributions of 
warm socks and mufflers. Then, too, the susceptible 
maidens of the village and the Female Seminary sighed 
for their gentle addresses, while they scorned the boor- 
ishness of the boys of the Academy. For in the eyes 
of the school-mistress, whose father before her had 
plenteously endowed the house of God’s workers upon 
the hill, and who had eventually disposed of her own 
thrifty savings through the same fathomless channel to 
grace, the Theologue, like the mute of the harem, could 
do no harm, while the boys could. She avoided the 
latter, as the shepherd does the ravening wolves ; but 
the former were as acceptable as are trusty watch-dogs. 
Besides the abnormal is generally contemned, unless it 
has awesome qualities ; and the boys did not under- 
stand the Theologues. There was no character in the 
classics of similitude to them, unless it was Thersites; 
and even he pretended to be a warrior. They were so 
sombre, and subdued, and chary of exercise, so given 
to long hair and meditation, and folding of hands and 
rolling of eyes, that while they disdained them they 
were still half envious of them. Finally they regarded 
them as their natural enemies, the friends of their dead- 
ly foes, the landladies and the faculty, the spies upon 
their mischief and the instigators of their enforced devo- 
tions, and so they hated them. 


84 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. ■ 


Now Naomi thoroughly understood these prejudices. 
She appreciated the boys’ ridiculous attachment to tra- 
dition and their unreasoning antipathy to their saintly 
elders, as well as she knew her honest little self. It 
was therefore with unfeigned anxiety and dismay, that, 
as she turned into the campus path at its upper extrem- 
ity, she saw slowly advancing towards her from its 
furthest point, the tall, striking figure of Jonas Chidsy. 

He had spent a most wretched night of wakefulness, 
tossed like a rudderless barque by the waves of passion, 
and then swept and beaten by the rain of contrition. 
The soothing monotony of his life at Arm way had been 
pierced through and through by bright glances, and had 
suffered an utter collapse. His thoughts, from their 
dreamy wanderings had been gathered and concentrated 
upon a single object, and that was Marcia. He had pic- 
tured her in the softest and noblest of colors. He had 
burned with impatience to help her spiritual nature, by 
exhibiting to her its own matchless purity. He had dreamt 
that she might prove to him a sister, comforting him 
with the calm strength of sisterly affection. He had 
recalled how men of eminent learning and piety had 
often formed these soulful and sexless intimacies that 
had riveted twin spirits with bolts which were mightier 
than steel. He had instanced how Petrarch had been 
solaced by Laura, and how the memory of Beatrice had 
inspired Dante. He had fancied her as far removed and 
severed from the muck and dross of earth, as are the 
ethereal flames that illuminate Paradise. And yet 
ever amid these thoughts, would steal the entranc- 
ing vision of her actual loveliness with its womanly 
curves and electric warmth, and the joyous promise of 
its presence. Those ardent orbs would again glow with 
a tenderness and entice with a suggestion that belied 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EK, 


85 

all remembrance of her speech. And then he had 
moaned aloud, and had beaten his chest with his fists 
as if to exorcise the mocking devil that possessed him, 
and had prayed to her innocence to forgive the unwit- 
ting degradation which he had-inflicted. And so he had 
pitched to and fro, like a ship whose anchorage had 
been so prolonged that its cables had rotted and parted 
and cast it adrift at the mercy of wind and tide. 

And when morning had dawned, and had brought 
action to his restlessness, he had rambled forth, dazed 
and uncertain, conscious of no settled purpose, yet con- 
scious that he would seek her. Heretofore his walks 
had never led him towards the Academy. He detested 
the noise and the manner of the boys ; for they always 
tormented him with their scoffings, and he avoided them. 
Hence he had strolled in other directions, along the 
river bank or through the fields or within the quiet 
woods. Until the terror of a certain incident had 
caused him to shun its vicinity, as he would the barque 
of Charon, he has frequently sought the shady dells and 
lonely heights of the “ Mountain ” ; but now he viewed 
it even from afar with fright. 

He was aware of no tradition nor rule which forbade 
his use of the campus ; and he had listlessly entered upon 
it without much appreciation of whither he was going. 
He was thinking of Marcia, thinking how long the time 
had been since he had parted with her, and how wasted 
were the years that had known her not. His reverie 
was so deep and so restricting that he did not heed nor 
hear the shouts at first faint and distant, and then grow- 
ing louder and nearer, of “ Theologue on the campus, 

“ Theologue on the campus.” Nor did he note the re- 
sounding echoes of rapidly approaching feet, until he was 
aroused to the sternness of present realities by a sharp 


86 


A IVOMAIV OF SOREK, 


blow upon the back, which caused him to turn quickly 
aside and in his confusion to trip over a large flat stone, 
which had formerly been used as a base upon the ball 
field, but which modern appliances had relegated to 
ignominious abandonment. He fell upon his knees, and 
gazed in bewilderment upon a gyrating ring of crazy 
boys who danced excitedly around him. The blow which 
he had received had been inflicted by the accurate 
throwing by George Dome of a parcel of books which 
were bound tightly together with a long strap that he 
had used as a sling. 

“ Boys, it’s Jonas Chidsy ! ” 

“ Ah there ! Chid, you’re a kid ! ” 

“ Hello, Jonah, are you on your way to Nineveh 
again ? ” 

“ He’ll be fired up before he’s three days here ! ’’ 

“ Next time you go a sailing, Jonah, you’d better take 
a brad-awl and stomach pump along.” 

These were a few of the ejaculations, which permit 
repetition, that stormed upon his ears. Jonas slowly 
picked himself together, and stood in silence before 
them ; his glasses broken, his hat missing, his hair 
waving in the wind in dishevelled ringlets, and his 
coat covered with fragments of soil and with dust. 
In the settling flood of faces that still dashed be- 
fore him, but one branded itself upon his memory, and 
that was the face of Dome. Each eye radiated his jeer- 
ing smile, each exclamation re-echoed his sarcasms. He 
knew instinctively that it was he who had struck him ; 
and a rush of recollections now recalled the petty an- 
noyances to which this boy had subjected him since he 
had entered the seminary, and the taunt and the jest 
with which he had ever greeted him. And he realized 
that within his heart, bitter hatred, which had smould- 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


«7 

ered for a long time unnoticed, now burned fiercely to^ 
wards him. He felt the hot blood surge beneath his 
cheeks, and anger so enflame his gaze that the landscape 
blurred and faded. 

That old savage desire to strike, to exert his virility 
and strength, and to ruthlessly destroy, which had so 
overcome him when he was a boy, returned to him. 
His fists fiercely clinched, his muscles tightened like 
thongs upon a slave struggling to escape from his cap- 
tors, he advanced one step. Then he thought of the 
dignity and eminence of his calling, of that priesthood 
so consecrated, so set apart and removed from vulgar 
strife. Was it through brawling that he would induce 
men to seek a nobler life ? Was this the method of teach- 
ing by the force of holy precept and example that had 
been inculcated within him.? How could he with clear 
accent and conscience answer “Adsum”to the roll of his 
class if he had laid aside the robes of peace? These 
silent questions arrested his wrath and he again stood 
motionless and speechless. 

“ For shame ! boys, for shame ! ” cried a sweet ringing 
voice. “ So many against one, and he a servant of God, 
unused to contention ! George Dome, is this the knightly 
chivalry of which you boast? Will Mason, is this the 
way in which you emulate your hero Wallace? Oh, shame 
has come upon me because of my pride in you all ! 
Little did I think that the Academy could produce such 
a pack of cowards ! ” 

Thus spake Naomi, who had quickened her steps as 
soon as she had recognized Jonas and had heard the 
fateful shouts, and she straightway passed to his side, 
standing like a buckler-bearer, a trifle in advance, with 
heart as resolute and single of purpose as that which 
beat within the breast of Scotia’s heroine, who suckled 


88 


A WOMAN OF SORFN 


her immured and starving prince. The boys shrank 
away abashed and covered with confusion, for they 
all loved her and valued her approbation, and each in 
his boyish way had often bragged to her of his gallantry 
and prowess, and had confided how earnestly he yearned 
for an opportunity to perform deeds of valor. As she 
turned towards Jonas, her face beamed with enthusi- 
asm : 

I cannot express,” she said, “my admiration for 
your Christian forbearance. You have realized for me 
the possibilities of martyrdom, and have proven how 
sufficient and enduring is our faith in time of trial.” 

Now Jonas had been undergoing the gnawing pangs 
of mortification. To be so maltreated, and then to be 
rescued by the mediation of a young girl, had exceeded 
the bitterness of death. His enthralling introspection 
had been concentrated upon his appearance. How had 
he borne himself ? Had his manner been undignified ? 
Had the situation been ridiculous.? What would peo- 
ple say when they heard of his misadventure ? These 
were the queries that were agitating him, when her 
words greeted him. His existence had been so solitary 
and so selfish, that his own chances and fortunes were 
far more important and interesting to him than ever 
could be those of another. And as Marcia’s’ soft flatter- 
ies had delighted and befooled him, and as George’s 
laugh and taunts had unduly moved him, so now 
Naomi’s tones of unqualified veneration mollified his 
perturbed spirits and cheered him. She surely must 
be his good angel. He remembered now that Sunday 
morning when he had been designated to deliver his 
laboriously prepared theme in the chapel, and self-con- 
sciousness had alarmed him with a nervousness that 
presaged utter failure, when his limbs were trembling 


A WOMAN OF SOFFA\ 


8g 

beneath him and his tongue was cleaving unto the roof 
of his mouth, that his eyes had met and rested upon 
hers, and that, in their steady confidence, he had found 
encouragement and fortitude. He remembered that he 
had always glanced towards her as he had entered 
the auditorium, and that, as he had seen her bending 
reverently. over the back of the old-fashioned pew be- 
fore her, he had experienced an indefinite satisfaction 
in her proximity. He remembered that he had always 
distinguished her voice in the recital of the Creed, and 
that its tones had impressed him, they were so pure and 
so redolent with prayer and with fervor. He remem- 
bered too the many comforts that had been woven for 
him, and which like his associates he had gratefully 
accepted from the sewing circle, and that her card had 
always been modestly hid within them. She had never 
been a positive personality to him, nor had she occu- 
pied his thoughts, nor influenced his dreams ; but now 
the earnestness of her face, and the sympathetic touch 
of her hand upon his arm, recalled these scattered rec- 
ollections and firmly connected them with her. So he 
plumed himself upon hearing these laudatory words, 
and his heart expanded towards one who so thoroughly 
understood him. And, as they were now proceeding 
unmolested down the path, he replied ; 

There was nothing else for me to do. Surely the 
moments of our life are too fleeting to be wasted in 
quarrel and riot. I feel for those misguided boys as I 
would towards a younger brother, for I too can say 
' Father, forgive them ; they know not what they do. ' '' 
As his impious hypocrisy complacently evolved this 
comparison a sudden twinge of pain shooting through 
his back, reminded him that if they did not, he did pos- 


A PVOMAAT OF SO/d^A* 


90 

sess a very present sense of what they had done, and 
heightened the bland melancholy of his expression. 

Naomi was enraptured. She was actually walking 
by the side of the one whom she had secretly wor- 
shipped and whom she now found to be invested with 
all of those exalted qualities which her fervid imagina- 
tion had ascribed to him. The shadow of her cousin’s 
perfidy vanished in the sunlight of his presence. Her 
feet scarcely pressed the sward, she tripped along with 
such buoyancy of spirit. She felt that she had sur- 
mounted the summit of felicity. Alas ! poor child ! She 
did not appreciate that a summit forbids continued exist- 
ence ; since the rarity ofits atmosphere quickly exhausts 
vitality ; and that the descent is irksome and full of 
danger. 

Jonas, on his part was unusually at ease. None of 
the feverish anxiety that had attended his meeting with 
Marcia, and had ever since burned within him, was now 
perceptible. Naomi conversed brightly and heartily 
with him, selecting those subjects that she judged were 
of most interest to him, such as the state of the Church, 
the true method of giving alms, and his future. He told 
her how he loved to think of the quiet home that awaited 
him in some small country parish, where, secluded from 
the turmoil of the world, sheltered from its vulgar cares, 
and nurtured by the affection of his flock, he could peruse 
the gilded book of life and slowly turn its shining pages. 
She sympathized with him in his modest ambition, and 
sighed as she contemplated its delicious repose and 
peace, not appreciating the intense egoism that was the 
sole architect and moulder of his plans. 

How little we really know of each other, and how 
largely our supposed acquaintance depends upon ex- 
traneous circumstances ! She saw this young man of 


A WOMAN OF SOFEJC^ 


9 


his own volition adopt the calling which demands the 
highest attributes. She assumed at once that love of 
God and of his fellows was his supreme and only mo- 
tive. She could not unveil his gloomy boyhood, his 
lurking ferocity, his morbid timidity and sloth, his pam- 
pered aestheticism, and his childish enjoyment of music 
and colors and robes. She could not divine that he was 
so wealthy as to be entirely relieved from the necessity 
of provision, that he was utterly ignorant of the attach- 
ments of home, and that the force of early association 
and circumstances had inclined his heart towards the 
Seminary. He was well and properly made, and clad 
in a garb that was romantic in its oddity ; and he bore 
with dignity all of the outward signs of one who had 
been called to be a shepherd of men. The sickly senti- 
mentality, the moroseness, the selfishness, of the natural 
man, was screened by clerical dress and speech, and in no 
wise revealed. She poured forth her pure young soul to 
him in all of its virginal freshness ; and so soothed him 
byher friendliness and almost reverent respect, that he for- 
got the mission which he had so aimlessly undertaken. 
He retraced his steps, walking with her as far as her 
destination would permit, and when he regretfully left 
her, departed with his former serenity completely re- 
stored, his mental poise and equilibrium fully balanced 
by the magic of sincere adulation. 


92 


A WOMAN SORBIC. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

It was very peaceful down by the river’s bank. The 
softly flowing waters barely murmured. The path was 
well shaded by the towering warriors of the forest, which 
had withstood the assault of the fire and steel, that had 
accompanied the advent of nature’s destroyer, the white 
man ; the wasting yet kindly decay of the elements, 
and the mordant touch of time. Upon fine Sundays, 
after morning service, this was the chosen resort for the 
residents of Armway. Here came the young maidens 
and matrons in all of the bravery of their finery ; the 
young men in the uncomfortable stiffness of holiday at- 
tire ; and the fathers and mothers who had borne the 
heat and the burden, bursting with cackling reminis- 
cences and delighting to recall their trials, as one who 
has undergone a major surgical operation, takes melan- 
choly pride in recounting the chill of the knife and the 
grate of the saw. It was pleasant to stroll here in the 
sunlight, which, though tempered. in its vehemence ^y 
the assuaging foliage, still retained its cherishing fecund- 
ity. Sometimes a lark, as if challenging the stars, woijld 
shoot forth from the osiers and chant the triumph of its 
swiftness in the almost invisible heights of the sky. 
Sometimes from the grim old forest, whose gloom was 
perpetuated by the fruitful lap of the waters, an eagle 
would arise, and, lazily poised in mid air with arrogance 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


93 

of invulnerability, would shadow their ripples with its 
wings. But upon Saturday afternoons, the walk was 
deserted. The boys were engaged with their sports upon 
the campus ; and the villagers were still engrossed with 
the toil of the week. For the first principle engrafted 
within them had been that man must earn his bread by 
the sweat of his brow. And truth had engraven it upon 
the original escutcheon of the settlement Ease was 
•confined within the narrow interstices that separated the 
services of the Sabbath, and was never permitted to es- 
(Cape. So the youth in the fields viewed with dismay the 
•ever-extending length of the furrow, and the impotent 
bite of the plow ; yet they plodded on behind the strain- 
ing horses. And the maidens, through the dairy win- 
dow, watched with impatience the sluggish descent of 
the sun ; yet their busy hands never flagged in activity. 
And Marcia and Jonas strolled together in solitude. 

He had dreaded to meet' her ; yet had yielded to the 
voice of secret inclination masquerading as duty, and 
had found her a willing companion. She had indeed 
•expected him upon the previous day. She had been 
chagrined when she had learned of his adventure with 
Naomi ; and she had firmly resolved that she would as 
speedily as possible cut short this intimacy, whose sud- 
den increase had so colored with joy her cousin's cheek. 
Since fortune seemed to fight against her, she would 
match chance with wit. In the outset, she talked to 
him solely about herself. She told him that she had 
been reared in a different faith from that which was 
taught in the Seminary ; but that since her arrival in 
Arm way she had become a proselyte of it. She ques^ 
tioned him anxiously regarding her soul's salvation, and 
appeared to be deeply reassured by his words of confi- 
dence in the certain blissfulness of her hereafter^^ since 


A WOMAN OF SOHEK, 


94 

she had sought and found the only true church and gate- 
way to heaven. 

“My father is such a good man. He is charitable 
and faithful to his duty, and obedient to holy ordi- 
nance. He believes as fully in his creed as we do in 
ours. Will he not be saved ? 

“All things are possible in the mercy of God,” re- 
plied J^nas dubiously. 

“And there was my mother! She died when she 
was very young ; and dear little cousin Jimmie, who 
could not have known the significance of sin, and yet 
neither of them was baptized. ” 

“The Fathers all agree that baptism is essential to 
salvation,” said Jonas, as with the air of an Aristides he 
consigned to outer darkness the fair young bride, whom 
death had robbed of such happiness, and “dear little 
cousin Jimmie,” whom the pangs of a fortnight had 
sufficed to exhaust 

“And can we enjoy felicity while they are in agony?” 

“Are not the angels happy who have for ages wit- 
nessed the myriads of lost souls writhing in ceaseless 
torture ? Is not God love ? And yet does He not so 
ordain ? Death endues us with different natures, and 
with emotions that are now foreign to us. Earth will 
become as indifferent to us, as is the cocoon to the 
butterfly. The ties of this world are sinful, and they 
then have no binding force. Eternal justice governs, 
although we are so blinded by human prejudices that 
we cannot perceive it But since we are numbered 
among- the elect we must so believe. The light of the 
great white Throne will make it manifest ” 

“Your words anoint me with the hallowed oil of 
faith,” murmured Marcia, as with the delicate web of 
her kerchief she pressed from her eyes, that shone the 


A WOMAN OP SOREJC, 


95 

brighter for their pious sympathy, a tribute of grief over 
the fate of her benighted kindred. 

Her interest was of course simulated, and she heeded 
his sayings no more than she would the ravings of a 
dervish. She had been compelled by her agreement 
with him to engage him in a conversation upon relig- 
ious topics ; for this was the purpose of their meeting. 
It now accomplished a twofold result Jonas, warmed 
by the enfolding robes of his bigotry, became compla- 
cent and serene. And the intensity of dislike which 
the brutality of his dogmas inspired within her, nerved 
her to the execution of her designs against him. She 
presently changed the drift of their colloquy somewhat, 
and told him of her many trials, how her father had in- 
sisted upon her visiting her aunt in order that she might 
aid her, how good a woman was Mrs. Clenton, so in- 
dustrious, so self-sacrificing, and how she loved to help 
her, and yet how hard it was for her to be thrown into 
association with so many rough, coarse boys. 

Still I presume that your cousin Naomi is a power- 
ful auxiliary to her mother. She is renowned far and 
near as a most dutiful daughter. ” 

“An auxiliary,” repeated Marcia with a bitter laugh, 
and a sarcastic gleam under her long sweeping lashes 
that curled upwards at the ends like the tendrils of a 
rare aquatic plant, “Undoubtedly her fascinations en- 
tice and captivate the boys ; but — Oh what am I saying, 
Mr. Chidsy! Cannot you perceive how much I need 
advice and admonition ! Teach me that charity that 
thinketh no evil ! And yet, my blood boils with honest 
indignation when I consider the unfilial conduct of some 
daughters. ” 

She laid her little ungloved hand upon his sleeve, and 
looked into his face with the beseeching candor of a child. 


A WOMEN OF SOREK, 


96 

She saw his countenance twitch and his lips quiver with 
emotions which he with difficulty restrained ; and yet 
she only pressed her hand more firmly, and more be- 
witchingly gazed upon him. 

“ Do not chasten yourself with such severity, my dear 
Miss Clenton. You are over sensitive, and your bal- 
ance between the right and the wrong discriminates too 
closely. Hair-breadths are disregarded by Christianity. 
The truth is not uncharitable ; for it is a living fact, and 
should always be spoken. If your cousin is an un- 
dutiful daughter you should not hesitate to proclaim 
it. Indeed it is your duty to do so ; for she must 
be a whited sepulchre, she presents so attractive an 
exterior. ” 

And Jonas sighed, as he remembered her flattering 
deference that had so encouraged him. 

“You make the straight and narrow path so evident 
to me, that my feet should never stray. It must be 
wrong for me to allow her deceptions to continue. I 
feel this especially, when I remember her cruel words 
regarding you this morning. Oh, Mr. Chidsy, how 
can she treat her poor old mother so ! How can she 
frolic with the boys, when she knows how oppressive 
is the burden upon that feeble old back ! Ah, if I only 
had such a mother, how happy would I be to cherish 
and to relieve her ! And I try, as it is ; but I am not 
strong, and I am so unaccustomed to work. Yet I do 
help her, believe me. And she is most grateful, it 
seems so strange to her to receive any consideration. 
See, I have nearly ruined my hands ! '' and Marcia 
piteously held before him her little palm as rosy as the 
sleep of an infant. 

“You are very good to be of such assistance,” re- 
joined Jonas; “and the contrast reflects shame upon 


A IVOMAN OF SOFFAT. 


97 

your cousin. But tell me what was it that she said con- 
cerning me. Not that I am unduly inquisitive ; but it 
will enable me to more unerringly scan her character. 
I met her yesterday, under trying and untoward circum- 
stances, and she seemed to be most kind and considerate 
to me.” 

“Yes, that detestable George Dome, fori must so 
term him, he is so impudent, related this morning at the 
breakfast table how shamefully you had been abused, 
and my eyes welled with tears as I listened to his 
wicked mocking words. But they all laughed, oh, so 
heartily, and none so merrily as did Naomi, when hs 
said — it humiliates me to repeat such vulgarity — that 
she and you should have exchanged clothing. ” 

Poor Jonas ! he flushed with the hot blood of con- 
tumely. All of the self-assurance, which had so rapidly 
developed within the preceding days, vanished like a 
spectre suddenly exposed to a searching light. Again 
past his vision flashed the sneering face of George, with 
its hateful smirk. Why was it that this boy continually 
unsettled his mental calm ? Why was he always so 
light and joyous and free from all embarrassments, a 
miserable, stupid, half grown lout, halting at the pons- 
asmorum in dismay, overthrown by the galloping muse 
of the Latin poet, to whom the English language was 
and ever would be an unknown tongue ; and yet suc- 
cessfully ridiculing him, with his fine mind, his high 
culture, and all of his intellectual attainments ! Oh, it 
was beyond endurance ! Very unholy were the thoughts, 
very unclerical were the utterances that rushed through 
his mind and hesitated upon his lips. Must it always 
be that he should suffer ignominy and contempt, and 
still remain meek and silent under it ? Was this the 
peace that passed all understanding ? Had he bartered 


A tVOMAA^ OF SOFFA\ 


98 

the right that birth had given to him, to be manly and 
aggressive and commanding, for a mess of pottage com- 
pounded of refinement and seclusion? Why had he 
not heeded the warnings of his father s cold unsympa- 
thetic life ? Why had he, a young man, endowed with 
vigor, enriched by ancestral thrift, and unencumbered 
by tie or restriction, deliberately thrust his head into the 
noose, his neck beneath the pillory? For the first time 
since he had entered the Seminary did he now question 
the wisdom of his course. And all of these regrets and 
doubtings and soul-rending sensations swept like a vic- 
torious army over him, and enthralled his mind with 
a rapidity that was almost instantaneous in point of 
time. 

He felt that he was changed, but he was only aroused. 
His real nature had been so repressed, so stifled by his 
environments that he had never appreciated the trend 
of his desires. He had wandered through life in the 
twilight of constraint, and when the blaze of freedom 
had shone upon him, the blink and the glare had be- 
wildered him. He had been bound, hand and foot, by 
the chains of parental submission, inherited influences, 
and the force of daily habit and custom ; and when the 
clamps had broken and the shackles had been unloosed 
he had again bound himself. Knowledge of life and 
knowledge of his true self was now being pressed upon 
him, unprepared and unwilling though he was to re- 
ceive it. 

One force he recognized as straining at the vitals of 
his being, and that was an ever-increasing hatred of 
George. The mention of that name heated and pulsated 
his blood. He hated him for what he was, and for 
what he himself had never been. He envied him his 
nature, and he charged him with his own dreary youth 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK, 


99 


and the pleasures which were forever lost to him. 
There had always been a well-spring of bitterness in 
his soul ; but he had covered it with the rushes and soil 
of monotonous habitude. Now it bubbled forth, and as 
the lava wantonly destroys the painful labor of the hus- 
bandmen at the mountain’s base, so it consumed the 
product of his schooling and of his studies. He con- 
ceived that he had forfeited his manhood, and had be- 
come emasculated ; that he was now only fitted to be a 
butt for a boy, or a trustworthy and proper companion 
for a blooming young maiden. 

There was also another influence at work within him, 
whose insidious poison, though stealing through every 
vein, though tingling each nerve, and though impelling 
and augmenting his ineffectual regrets, he did not as yet 
fully recognize. The calm friendliness that had at- 
tended his walk and chat with Naomi, had upon his 
meeting with Marcia straightway deserted him. The 
spell of her personality, her absorbing femineity, the 
swish of her drapery against him, and the infinitesimal 
and occasional contacts of their bodies, affected him to 
his marrow. He was nervous and agitated, and stun- 
ned by abnormal thoughts, and battered with insane 
longings ; and it was only through the combined pow- 
ers of his will that he had been able to maintain the 
Pharasaical formalism of his carriage and speech. 

This instant of self-revelation seemed to be intermi- 
nable to Jonas. The necessity of immediate control and 
dissembling oppressed him. He knew what he should 
say, but his tongue faltered in confusion. What must 
Marcia think of his moody contemplation? Had he 
been guilty of inexcusable inadvertence ? He glanced 
towards her, half expecting to read in her face an ex- 
pression of anriazeraent at his self-abstraction. But she 


lOO 


A WOMAN OF SOREir. 


appeared to be contentedly awaiting his response, and 
to be not in the least disturbed by his taciturnity. So 
he constrained himself to speak, though he paled be- 
neath the effort, and the hot blood turned back into his 
heart and accelerated its throbbings. 

“ How trivial are the woes of ridicule in comparison 
with the hopes of eternity I Most willingly would I 
promote their mirth, were it free from guile ; but I am 
grieved, deeply grieved, that one so young, with so can- 
did a brow as your cousin, should be so deceitful. '' 

“I cannot tell you how shocked I have been as 1 
have daily gained a more certain perception of her char- 
acter. She is imbued with malice. When I came to 
Armway, I regarded with delight the prospect of finding 
in her a dear little sister, in whom I could confide, 
whose thoughts and purposes would be in accord with 
mine. But dreadful has been the awakening from the 
bright dreams of my simplicity. Would you believe 
that my deepest preferences and most sacred aspirations 
have been mercilessly exposed by her to that same ridi- 
cule which you so nobly ignore ! Such perfidy seems 
to be incredible ; yet what I relate is true. Ah, there 
was a secret stab in the jests concerning you, which 
was thrust at me, and it wounded me most deeply ! ” 

Hardly had Marcia uttered this sentence than she 
started as if from the realization of self-betrayal. She col- 
ored as do the roses before the vernal heat, and a 
charming agitation suffused her eyes. 

“And will you not tell me how that could be.?” in- 
quired Jonas, bending over her in the anxiety of con- 
flicting doubts and hopes. 

“Pray do not ask me, Mr. Chidsy ; I have said far 
too much,” she cried, as she furtively scrutinized him 
behind the modest veiling of her lashes. 


A WOMAN OF SOFEK. 


lOl 


Another wave of revulsion swept over him ! Could 
it be possible that this fair young girl, fresher and 
sweeter than the blossom of a peach or the bloom of the 
trailing arbutus, had formed an affection for him, and in 
her innocence had divulged it to her cousin ? Was fate, 
which he had but now so derided, so beneficent to him, 
as to incline toward him the chaste and undefiled heart 
of her, whose glance shook his strength, and the touch 
of whose garments penetrated his being? Were the 
heavens of joy spread open before him ; and did he, 
who had been so bitter, so despondent and so self-com- 
passionate, possess earth's richest gift ? 

They were standing beneath the shadow of a venera- 
ble elm, whose arms were extended far and wide, as if 
seeking to embrace and to strain to its rugged old breast 
the coy and fleeting atmosphere. The air was redolent 
with the breath of the pines and the perfume of the lily 
pads. Myriad atoms of insect vitality glowed and 
sparkled in the sunbeams that shot through the interlac- 
ing branches. The faint low of the kine browsing upon 
the further bank of the river mingled with the joyous 
song and twitter of the birds and the rippling music of 
the water's flow. All nature chanted the anthem of per- 
vading love and union, of the universality of life, and of 
the joys of its begetting and continuance. Their bodies 
began to sway almost imperceptibly, as if attracted by a 
mutual magnetism. A thousand lights danced before 
his vision. His head grew heavy and dizzy. An un- 
thought impulse urged him forward, and drove out his 
will and resolution. He stretched forth his arms — when 
Marcia, who had steadfastly observed him, and had 
read each , change of passion in his nervously twitching 
face, drew slowly away, and, in cold, distinct, indiffer- 
ent tones of the utmost composure, said ; 


102 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC, 


“Don’t you think that we had best be homeward 
bound, Mr. Chidsy? It is so hot and stupid here.” 

She quietly strolled down the river path, and he in 
silence followed her. He no longer sought her side, 
but preserved a deferential distance behind her, hang- 
ing low his head with shame. Was he insane? he 
asked himself. Had all of the maddening emotions of 
the day no foundation save in the disorder of his mind? 
Had he imagined tenderness in those grave eyes, and 
mistaken the placidity of fortuitous friendship for love ? 
Was even his hate the figment of unsettled fancy? Oh, 
double-dyed fool and egregious ass that he was, why 
should he not be a laughing-stock, since he was so bit- 
ter a jest unto himself! Vain, indeed, were his regrets 
that he had not chosen a more active life, when the 
slightest deviation from his ordinary pursuits aroused 
such disquietude within him. The even passage of his 
days of study and meditation had at least afforded him 
mental repose, and their decent reserve had protected 
him from folly. Again he resolved that he would be 
self-contained, and would wrap the cloak of austerity 
more closely about him. Again he summoned all of 
his energies to his assistance, and with a weighty ex- 
pression of determination upon his face, denoting far 
more decision than he actually possessed, he rejoined 
Marcia. 

“ Can you tell me,” he said, “ who dwells in yonder 
little cottage ? It is so tiny that it seems to be better 
adapted for a play-house than for the home of a 
laborer.” He pointed to a small house of a single 
story in height, which set back from the path, half hid- 
den by the huge pines that guarded it, and screened by 
ivy and honeysuckle. It presented an inviting pros- 
pect. A white gravelled walk led to the porch, which 


A WOMAN- OF SOREN. 


103 

was on a level with the adjoining flower beds. Through 
the low windows could be seen white curtains taste- 
fully draped, and glimpses of engravings and bats and 
guns upon the walls. 

“Why, don’t you know, that is where George Dome 
and his chum Will Mason live. He would not room in 
the Commons, nor at his boarding-house, though there 
he should be to fully profit by the restraints of its home 
influences ; and he persuaded his father, who, I fear, is 
foolishly indulgent with him, to rear this diminutive 
nook. He calls it ‘The Retreat’ ; but he says that the 
latch string always hangs out for his friends. My 
aunt, Naomi and I, for of course I would not have 
gone there alone for the world, visited the boys one day 
shortly after my arrival. I did not then appreciate the 
turpitude of George’s nature ; and they were so anxious 
to exhibit the beauties of their abode, that I consented to 
do so. It is really very pleasant. In front there is one 
large room, well lighted and yet well shaded, as you 
can see, which they use as a study, or at least they pre- 
tend that they do. From it a door leads into their 
sleeping apartment in the rear, which, my aunt says, 
for I would not enter it, is airy and commodious. These 
two rooms comprise the entire dwelling. It is arranged 
with a purity of taste far exceeding what one would 
expect from lads so uncouth as they. They have col- 
lected a great variety of curious odds and ends that 
they call ‘ Memorabilia,’ with which they have decorated 
the walls and tables ; and their furniture is awfully com 
fortable, though it is old and mutilated, and burned by 
cigarettes. There are great easy-chairs in which no 
one could possibly study ; and the widest, sleepiest, 
dreamiest lounge, that you could imagine. Then too 
they have quantities of books scattered helter-skelter 


104 


A JVOMAAT OF S0A^£A\ 


about the room. But, oh, I was so saddened when I 
glanced over them ! There were so many literal 
translations, and so many frivolities of fiction ; but not 
one sensible serious work such as you and I love to 
peruse and consider, nor did I anywhere see the Bible, 
though I anxiously looked for it. I fear that George 
is a godless and sinful young man. " 

‘‘He seems to belong to a perverse generation,” re- 
plied Jonas, gently patting his hands together, as he 
thought with a certain complacency of his manifest 
waywardness. 

They had now reached the village, and were ap- 
proaching the rusty brick walls and cheerless windows 
of Mrs. Clenton’s house. 

‘ ‘ I shrank instinctively from him with dread and 
repugnance when I first saw him, ” continued Marcia, 
“he is so bold and so gross. Still, I tried to combat 
this feeling lest I might be unjust But since I have 
heard his blasphemous speeches, I avoid him as I would 
a pestilence. Papa always taught me to seek the 
society of the good and of the pure of heart ; and that is 
why I hope that we may repeat the communion of this 
afternoon very soon. For you have both helped and 
comforted me.” And she proffered him her hand in the 
courtesy of farewell. Did his vagrant fancy again mis- 
lead him, or was his grasp returned by a deliciously 
soft and lingering pressure? He gazed eagerly into her 
face and again there read a mournful entreaty. Once 
more burning words leapt to his lips, and his flesh 
quivered as from palsy. He glanced towards the house, 
and there discovered at the window the sneering, laugh- 
ing visage of George Dome, who was pointing his 
finger derisively towards him, and was evidently amus- 
ing the other occupants of the room with choice witti- 
cisms at his expense. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


105 

“ Doubtless Naomi is heartily enjoying his ridicule,” 
he bitterly thought. He dropped her hand and abruptly 
started down the road, almost bursting with anger and 
hatred and passion, and longing to hide himself where 
none of his new acquaintances could ever find him, 
where he would he unmindful and forgetful of himself 
and of his thoughts. . For he now knew how different 
he was from what he had ever considered himself to 
be, and he feared lest his ample robes should shrink and 
his hideousness become revealed. Grateful would be 
his former obscure and dreamy peacefulness. To regain 
it, to seek and to find the well-trodden way, and never 
again to stray therefrom, was now his ardent purpose. 
For Jonas looked into his heart and was affrighted. 


/ 


/ 


io6 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


CHAPTER IX. 

The rooms in the Seminary building, in which the 
Theological students were lodged, were charming and 
quaint. They were old-fashioned and low studded, and 
the beams that bisected their ceiling were blackened by 
age. The windows set back in deep recesses, and their 
wide benches, when comfortably cushioned, invited 
pleasant contemplation or repose with attractive sugges- 
tions that were almost irresistible. The air that sighed 
through them was so invigorated by the juicy leaves 
and resinous boughs of the huge shadowing trees, that 
it seemed like partaking of a tonic to inhale it The 
light that filtered through them was so mellow and opal- 
escent, that it resembled the kisses with which Diana 
softly awakened the sleeping Endymion. And the view 
stretched away into an increasing expanse of delight, as 
richly diversified and as comprehensive as that which 
in olden time greeted the gaze of the Psalmist, when he 
lifted his eyes unto the hills. Bright and verdant and 
peaceful it lay, fair as the garden of the Hesperides save 
where the green of the campus deepened and dwindled 
into distance; for, towering over it, frowned the Mountain, 
dark and threatening, and saddening with its gloom the 
hues of its verdure, pathless and almost impenetrable, 
the same now as it had been in those yesterdays when 
the heaviest tread of man was the fleeting echo of the 
moccasin. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


107 

The Mountain was not beautiful, it was sublime. 
Around its brow obscurity clung, like a cowl to the 
head of a monk. It was the home of the thunder-cloud, 
the nurse of the storm. It never smiled ; but its laugh- 
ter was the battle of the elements. 

Like the Pyramids, it seemed to be ever meditating ; 
and its thoughts were the despicability of man, and the 
irony of his fate. Autumn with the golden touch of its 
fingers never lessened its severity ; for the bitterest frost 
grew with the night and wasted before the morrow’s 
sun could mollify its harshness, and the tints of its 
sombreness were only intensified. It was the habitat 
of the wild-cat, whose unearthly shrieks would at times 
startle into fright the quiet of slumber. Little children 
hid their heads in terror within the comforting nests of 
their mother s laps, as winter tales of ferocious bears 
that prowled among its crags, the single blow of whose 
paw could fell an ox, were told around the brightly 
burning hickory logs of the ingle nook, while the winds 
of the north howled among the rafters in vain emula- 
tion. Then, too, in one of its rocky glens was the lair of 
the rattlesnake ; and again and anon, in the fervency 
of summer’s heat, when the warmth of earth’s bosom 
aroused all sluggishness, the housewife busy with the 
burnishing of her pans in the dairy, was terrified by the 
slimy sweep of its coils across her spotless floor. And 
in many a pent-up parlor, among the ornaments that 
bedecked its most highly reverenced and costly append- 
age of elegance, the etagere, commonly and indefinitely 
called in this vicinity the “what-not,” whose motto is 
“ Este profani,” and whose approach is only open to 
the adult and then with hesitating footsteps and bated 
breath ; safely ensconced in some lacquered box brought 
by a missionary returning from India’s coral strand, or 


A WOMAN OF SOREir, 


loS 

in the depths of a fabled china treasure which the' foss"' 
ings of the wave-beaten Mayflower had spared to be- 
come the seneschal of family pride, might be found its 
dread and mysterious rattles, trophies of later contests 
in which the seed of the woman had crushed the ser- 
pent's head. 

So the villagers from their earliest associations, 
shunned the Mountain, with feelings akin to awe ; and 
even the headlong spirits of the boys were tinged by a 
superstitious dread of its lower. Besides, the under- 
brush had so thickly tangled itself between the trees, and 
the heavy humid air was so dense and so teeming with 
numberless insects that their expeditions of sport and 
adventure avoided it, as entailing too much hardship 
and discomfort. So it reigned in solitude, protected by 
tradition and by grim reality. 

To Jonas, the Mountain was a sentient monster, a 
brooding giant of evil. It was connected in his mind 
and memory with his first contemplation and realization 
of the awesome incidents that attend violent death. 
And this happened in this wise. It was shortly after 
his entrance into the Armway Seminary, that the long 
and lonely walk of a Saturday afternoon led him, upon 
his return along the outskirts of the easterly side of the 
Mountain, to him then known only as a massive piece 
of grandeur obtruded upon a scene of rural simplicity 
and prettiness. Its mighty hemlocks and pines were 
marshalled before him like an army of grenadiers re- 
pelling invaders. Inexorable rigor and pride, in a 
strength that had outworn the ages, stiffened their ranks. 
The silence was oppressive, and no sound challenged 
its dominion, save the grit and the crackle of the loam 
beneath his feet, the creaking of a lightning-shattered 
bough bemoaning its fate to the sighing sympathy of the 


A PVOMAJ^ OF SOREA\ 


log 

Zephyr, and the distant and discordant Cries of crows. 
Jonas could see these noisome creatures of darkness 
and ill-fortune encircling a projecting wing of the 
Mountain, which it was necessary for him to pass in 
order to reach his destination. 

As he ‘watched their rounding flight, which seemed 
to center upon some one particular object that was still 
invisible to him, as he listened to their caws incessant 
and growing louder and harsher as he approached, a 
fear without a name, without a reason seized him. 
His body shook with an involuntary tremor as though 
the hard heel of the peasant had pressed too heavily 
upon the sod which would be his winding-sheet ; his 
flesh quivered as quivers all flesh before the chill of 
Azraebs breath ; his eyes shot forth that look of trepida- 
tion which an unexpected rap, or fright in the night, or 
the fleeting sweep of a spectral footstep will produce. 
He felt that he was confronted by the great unknown, 
and it overwhelmed him. What was it that urged his 
pace with such zest, and yet caused it to drag and to halt ? 
In what manner could his fate be entwined with these 
grewsome sounds upon this lonely mountain height ? 
He could not tell, yet, as through the dim mists of pre- 
existence we sometimes recognize the faces of strangers 
and recall with familiarity scenes never before visited, 
so, with a divination as keen as is this retrospect, did 
Jonas know that some time, when doom was cracking, 
when the strain of life was tearing its fibres, he, and the 
crows and the sighing boughs and the frowning rocks 
would in fatality meet. So he knew for one instant, 
when the shudder froze within him vitality's tide, then 
and but then, through the rift in future’s blackening 
clouds, did this pale sickly light appear, never again to 


,1 WOMAN OF SORFK. 


1 ro 

perturb his spirit, except through the tossings and moan- 
ings of nightmare. 

A sudden swish through the air restored the present 
scene to his attention. Something ghastly, unspeakable, 
loathsome, swept his cheek with sticky nastiness, and 
spattered upon the groimd at his feet. He looked above 
him. There, in the clearest blue of the ether, under as 
cloudless a sky as gladdened the morning of the Ascen- 
sion, two crows, like twin Harpies besetting a hapless 
stranger, were screaming and clawing and biting. He 
glanced upon the earth, and there before him, on him — 
oh, horror ! what portent of unutterable evil was thus 
presaged ! what shapeless fragment, plucked by hell’s 
messengers, of discolored flesh and gore was this ! 
The terror of suspense and uncertainty clutched him. 
He shrieked, and rubbed his cheek, and wrung his hands, 
and plunged forward with the speed of a panic-stricken 
steer behind which pound the hoofs of the stampeded 
herd. As he turned the rocky coigne that had opposed 
its battlements to his vision, with cries of interrupted 
greed and of angry expostulation, hundreds of crows 
arose in the air above a tall, gaunt, verdureless pine, 
whose branchless boughs shot athwart the earth like 
the arms of a gallows. And there, hanging from one of 
them that bent as if in shame of its infernal burden, with 
knees drawn up, and limbs distorted, and orbless sockets 
threateningly glaring, and stringy tongue protruding 
between black and bleeding and mutilated lips, which 
were parted in a hideous smile of triumph, to and fro 
slowly swung a grisly corpse, the gory and mangled 
remains of a man half torn into shreds and pieces by the 
foul birds. An old man, too, it had been, for across that 
face of mortality and decay, softly played a lock of 
snow-white hair, as if signaling to the happy days of 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


III 


the distant past, or proffering a flag of truce to remorse- 
less fate. The hands were so drawn by agony’s power 
that the curved fingers, as it swayed with the halting 
regularity that marks the gait of age, seemed to him to 
beckon for his companionship. So too, that direful, 
sightless face turned towards him as if in friendly recog- 
nition, and the thickened lips whispered a fearful mes- 
sage from death's domain, which the kindly wind swept 
from his comprehension. 

He threw both hands high above his head in the anguish 
of abomination and the delirium of alarm, and dashed 
wildly across the fields, away, away, from so uncanny 
and inhuman a spectacle. The startled birds regained 
their courage upon beholding his supine flight, and with 
screams of unappeased hunger, returned to the ghoulish 
banquet. Their cries re-echoed in his ears when they were 
but black specks upon the border of the horizon ; and he 
strove to hush them by the pressure of his clasp. The 
swaying spectre still swung before his eyes, and tempt- 
ed him by its fateful persuasions ; and he tightly closed 
them though he stumbled and fell through the furrows, 
and bruised and tore himself against the stone walls and 
the thorny pickets. He was an object of pity when he 
reached the nearest farmhouse, and told the gaping 
swain the details of his shocking adventure. His hat 
was missing, his hair was dishevelled and streaming in 
elfin locks ; his raiment was soiled and tattered, and his 
face was pallid with terror. He looked like one who 
had met the paralyzing gaze of death, and had withstood 
its force through the strain of all of his vital powers. It 
was days before his natural calm reasserted itself ; and 
many were the nights that in his dreams he lived again 
those ominous moments, and felt his soul struggling 
within him to escape at the summons of that spectral 
hand. 


112 


A WOMAN OF SOFEJC. 


As Jonas sat in the luxuriously pillowed window of 
his room, a few weeks after his walk by the river with 
Marcia and looked out upon the familiar vistas before 
him, the frown of the mountain still oppressed him. He 
had settled down in the quiet and seclusion to argue 
with himself, and, if possible, to reduce his surging emo- 
tions to the definiteness of cause and effect. Despite 
his rational conclusions and his discreet resolutions, he 
had seen Marcia daily, and the charm of her presence 
had daily become more and more entrancing. All thought 
of self protection from temptation was now buried in ob- 
livion ; his passion had conquered his judgment. The 
original purpose of their meeting, the spiritual aid and 
solace which he was to administer to her afflicted and 
wounded spirit, had as entirely passed from his mind, 
as it had been an idle caprice others. She absorbed his 
thoughts, and they had become wild and impassioned ; 
for he had ceased all endeavor towards self-control. 
He revelled in the remembrance of the cool, flaky touch 
of her hand, of the faint dreamy perfume that seemed to 
surround her and to be an essence of herself, of the hid- 
den wonders of her form which her grace indicated, and 
of the dewy crimson of her lips. And yet her soul 
seemed to him to be most pure and limpid. In no 
way did he associate his way ward imagination with her 
influence or intent But he now believed that he had 
inherited from some one of his far away ancestors, 
a natural brutishness which had hitherto lain dormant, 
but which had at length become thoroughly aroused ; 
and that its cravings were so ardent as to even desecrate 
the sanctity of her exalted virtue. He had striven with 
tears and in agony to idealize her, to worship her as 
the Queen of Heaven should be worshipped, to stand 
in herpresence with downcast eyes and reverent mien ; 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


”3 


but he had striven in vain. For not only was this im- 
possible, but when he had succeeded in picturing within 
his mind an image of ethereal loveliness, as far removed 
from earth stain, as is one of Raphael’s angels, and had 
prostrated his spirit in adoration before it, it was the face 
of Naomi that then beamed upon him, as fair and as pas- 
sionless as is the chastest star of evening. And why this 
should be so was beyond the ken of his comprehension. 
For he believed her to be false and treacherous in dispo- 
sition, and coarse and hoidenish in manner. Day after 
day, with the skill of a schooled strategist, Marcia had by 
hint and inference and innuendo so blackened and 
maligned her cousin’s character, without his perceiving 
that she did so, but on the contrary at the same time 
strengthening his trust and reliance in her own flower- 
like simplicity, that scandal’s tongue possessed no 
power to surprise him regarding her. Since, therefore, 
his mind so causelessly perverted truth and transfigured 
shame, he had ceased from mental contention ; but not 
without certain indefinite sensations of remorse. 

It was not that he was conscious that he was sinning 
against God. That thought occasioned within him no 
uneasiness. He was not disturbed by the conviction of 
His omniscience, so long as his faults were beyond hu- 
man discovery. But it grieved him to sin against Marcia. 
While he strove to rear an altar to her, he made of her 
a willing voluptuary. He degraded a Lucretia into a 
Messalina, and he was shocked by his own enormity. 

Then too, it had so happened that he had of late fre- 
quently encountered Naomi. He had met her as he 
was hastening to and returning from his daily meal, 
and it seemed to him that she had in a degree sought 
these meetings. She had gazed upon him in such a be- 
seeching way, as if questioning the cause of his cold- 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


II4 

ness and indifference, and, though he had preserved an 
immovable frigidity, her looks of entreaty haunted him. 
Their friendship had been so natural and so sincere, her 
interest in him had been so marked and so unfeigned, 
that it affected him to believe her to be false to him, a 
wicked neglectful daughter, and a wanton. Yet such 
was his firm belief. 

As Jonas lounged in the window seat and considered 
these phases of the situation, he finally derived and fash- 
ioned within his mind several conclusions. He believed 
that he loved Marcia, that while his affection was too 
fiery and physical, yet that it was founded upon esteem 
and rational admiration. H e believed that she possessed 
every womanly attribute, that her soul was filled with 
love for the good and the beautiful, and with charity 
towards all mankind ; and that if united with her, his 
nature would be chastened and would again seek that 
higher life which had been his goal, but from which it 
had lately turned with distaste. He fancied her as 
burdened with the weight of years, as stricken with 
disease, as wan and haggard and disfigured; and yet 
she was still Marcia to him, his queen, his goddess, the 
latchet of whose sandal he was too humble to unloose. 
So he reasoned and persuaded himself that notwith- 
standing his luscious vagaries, his affection for her was 
as pure as it was strong. Nor did he appreciate that he 
deceived himself ; and that while he tried his sincerity 
by painting her as far different from what she was, he 
still knew that she was and would be the fascinating 
reality who had captivated him. He determined that 
he would put his fate to the test, and would ask her to 
become his wife. He knew that she was no coquette, 
that beneath the tenderness of her smile there lurked no 
deceit, and that when her hand had tremulously 


A IVOMAA^ OA' SO/^EA\ 


Its 

garessed him, even though it had been involuntar}’, it 
had been heartfelt. And so he was confident, strange 
though it seemed to him that fortune should so favor, 
that those trustful eyes would meet his imploring gaze 
in assent, and that her honest little heart would join in 
love’s vibrations. 

Then Jonas further determined that for Naomi he en- 
tertained the deepest contempt, and that her conduct 
fully justified such a feeling. She had trifled with him, 
and had sought his confidences only to betray them. 
She was as undutiful as was Goneril, and as unscrupu- 
lous as was Faustine. She was the ally and intimate 
friend of his bitterest enemy, George Dome. 

And this brought him to his third determination, 
which was that his hatred towards George was natural 
and laudatory ; and arose from the repelling antagon- 
him which must exist between good and evil. This 
passion had grown most rapidly. At first it had been 
mild and contemptuous, then the blow with the books 
had deepened it, and ridicule had vitalized it and ren- 
dered it undying. For ridicule is the sharpest missile 
against men who are, like him, contained, morbid, sen- 
sitive, contemplative and ever self-conscious. Now 
George quickly perceived that Jonas was grimly in 
earnest in his attentions to Marcia. So in every way he 
had obtruded his presence upon them. He haunted 
them like the spectre of a mortal sin, and interrupted 
with his hateful voice and leer every opportunity for 
sentimentality and courtship. It seemed to be a fatal- 
ity. How he knew so well their plans and purposes 
was an unsolved enigma that cudgelled Jonas’ brains. 
But it did not agitate Marcia. He partially believed that 
Naomi was malicious enough to gain her innocent 
cousin’s simple trust, and then to reveal it to George. 


ii6 


A tVOMAN OF SOREJ^, 


For the h6y was omniscient and indefatigable in hi^ 
mischief ; and embarrassed Jonas far more in his wooing, 
than did his own stiff and obdurate reserve. 

So Jonas no longer combated his hatred. He re- 
garded George as a veritable child of evil, an imp of 
darkness and an emissary of hell, expressly charged by 
Satan, whose personality was far more vivid and real 
to him than ever had been that of his Heavenly Father, 
to torment and persecute him. He felt towards him a 
strong, constant desire to annihilate and destroy, such 
as one might feel towards an uncanny, disagreeable, 
tantalizing apparition, and such as had animated his 
ancestors in kindling the fires of bigotry about the 
witches at Salem. The joy and spontaneity of youth 
neither softened nor attracted him, it was an additional 
irritation. So impressed had he ever been with the im- 
portance of his own sensations, that he was most 
indignant over his own maltreatment. It seemed to be 
unjust and monstrous to him, and it was now a part of 
his determination that it was his duty to avenge such 
undeserved opprobrium, and to properly administer just 
punishment. He pictured himself as a saint of the 
olden time exorcising from George the devils that pos- 
sessed him ; and George as writhing upon the ground 
in the agony of their fatal departure ; and he enjoyed the 
picture. It returned to his imagination again and again, 
George wallowing upon the earth, his limbs racked, 
his features distorted, his body twisted with vital suffer- 
ings ; while he, the oppressed, the down-trodden, would 
in triumph stride away. It had even entered into his 
dreams, and most soothing and delightful they were. 
He felt so relieved, so superior, so free from the palsy- 
ing fear of successful ridicule, to be walking in health 
and vigor upon the solid orb of the world, while George 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


I17 

lay prone and bleeding. Yet in the triumph of his 
visions, that awful recollection would intrude. Again 
he would feel the sickening swish against his cheek, 
again he would hear the dreadful cries of the crows, and 
see that swaying horror. These dreams were linked 
together by the ties of mystery and impending destiny ; 
and the pleasure which the one inspired would speedily 
yield to the overshadowing terror of the other, and 
Jonas would awaken to wish that the will controlled sleep 
and that thoughts despised during the day would not 
hover over his pillow. 

His reflections again reverted to Marcia, and his 
mind expanded in the delights of anticipation. Through 
the roseate glasses of predilection, he views himself 
stretched at her feet pouring forth burning words force- 
ful with truth and ornate with poetry. He sees her eyes 
glisten, her cheek softly glow, and her little hand 
timidly advance. Now he boldly stands beside her, 
and reads her love in her trustful expression. Bright, 
pearly tears tremble upon her lashes, as she shyly 
bends her head upon his shoulder ; and one scalds his 
hand as he caressingly strokes her. About her willowy 
waist, never before spanned save by a girdle, steals his 
throbbing arm. She feebly repulses him for a moment, 
with the instinctive shrinking of a virgin, and then, oh 
then, he presses her to his heart, he feels the agitation 
of her form, the rapid throbbing and fluttering of her 
breast against him, their lips meet in long clinging lin- 
gering kisses that quiver with oppressing ardor, the 
heavens open, and eternal joy descends in effulgence 
upon them. She is so gentle and yet so bewitching, 
and she radiates such truth and affection. She joins in 
all of his thoughts and is consonant with them. She 
encourages his aspirations and banishes his doubt. He 


A WOMAN OF SOREJt. 


1 18 

portrays to her his future life in the little vine-clad par- 
sonage, back from the quiet country street, under the 
umbrageous trees. How the prospect delights her ; and 
how the old desire, for so long a time dead, now re- 
vives within him. Oh, beautiful dreams of holiness ! 
Oh, rare and sacred ambitions of boyhood, now so 
nobly attained ! Hand in hand, side by side, together 
they would love and serve. Sympathetic words and 
kindly deeds would mark each stadium of their journey, 
a journey heaven-like as it would be heavenward. 

So Jonas pondered, and fast disappeared his sorrow 
and contempt for Naomi, his tierce resentment towards 
George. Vanished too were the murky thoughts that 
his imagination had excited. He was at peace with his 
fate and with the world. All things would be bright 
with him, when he had forever gained her. Melan- 
choly and despondency and all of that foul crew that 
had battened upon his solitude would be scattered 
as are miasms by the frost. Why, he would even 
grasp George by the hand, and slap him upon the 
back, and call him a fine fellow, and join in his laughter 
and jesting. He should visit them, and the bitterness 
which his sensitiveness had engendered would fade 
away before the sun of their friendliness. And his 
church— why, he would cling to her and cherish her and 
adore her. Mother of ineffable goodness, how devoted 
a son he would prove ! 

Jonas, intoxicated with excitement and enthusiasm, 
now stalked rapidly up and down the limits of his 
apartment. He gazed upon his books, his shelves 
weighted with ponderous treatises of controversial 
lore, and ancient tomes faintly glimmering with truth, 
which he had lately so shamefully neglected. How 
he loved them, soothing companions of his seclusion I 


A PVOMAA^ OF 


10 


He looked upon his pictures of Fathers and holy men, 
now numbered with the saints, but whose glory was 
reflected upon him. How he reverenced them and emu- 
lated their sinlessness ! He viewedhis room and all of its 
simple furniture, his desk, his easy-chair, his student lamp, 
his modestly draped bed and the mat beside it that his 
knees had worn in devotion. Dear old room ! How 
sweet, how innocent, how pure, had been its influence ! 
From his window he scanned the landscape. The sun 
was sinking in the west and bathing the smiling fields in 
its light which glowed with the warmth of a kindly fare- 
well. But beyond their joyousness, still frowned the 
Mountain dark and inexorable. The sun sank lower 
and died in the sky. The fields shivered with the touch 
of the dew. The long shadows stealthily gathered and 
combined into gloom. The Mountain grew blacker and 
denser and more terrible. More than one gaunt, haggard 
pine on ridge and knoll thrust forth a barren limb 
against the horizon, a sign-post to Erebus. Jonas 
shuddered as he again saw the bough bending and 
swaying beneath its burden, and those ghastly lips to 
again move in fateful warning. “Not thus shalt thou 
escape thy doom,’’ were the dread utterances that the 
night wind seemed to convey. His mood changed. 
He closed the shutters as if to exclude these hateful 
memories, and doubt and despondency descended with 
the evening and again enthralled him. 


120 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


CHAPTER X. 

Under the gnarled apple trees, which age had robbed 
of fruitfulness but not of strength, the hammock was 
invitingly swung. And slowly swaying from side to 
side, to the lullaby of the zephyr, Marcia lay in idle and 
unstudied grace, fairer and sweeter than the fairest and 
sweetest blossom that the spring had ever engendered 
upon the waving boughs above her, or that the winds of 
the summer had scattered upon the sward beneath. 

Ot course a hammock in “ Mammy ” Clenton’s garden 
seemed to be as incongruous as would be a chibouk in 
a chapel ; but this had been rigged by an enterprising 
student, who had graduated the year before, in an ob' 
scure and sterile corner, and uncertainty as to whether 
he would ever reclaim it, had thus far prevented the 
widow from converting its value into a more negotiable 
commodity. 

She resembled a senorita dreaming away the balmy 
moments of the siesta under the flaming sun and 
crystalline sky of Castile ; and the rude net surrounded 
her with the fascinating glamour that the Sprites and the 
Peris possess when they float upon the breath of the 
morning, or rock on the tendrils of the honeysuckle. 
Her soft, white gown of clinging fleecy material re- 
vealed the curving charms of her form, as distance does 
the beauty of the stars. It proved but did not disclose. 
Her hat of Leghorn straw, about which creamy veiling 


A tVOMAN OP SOPEK. 


I2I 


was artistically twisted like the turban upon a Persian’s 
brow, had fluttered to the ground ; but one broad, white 
ribbon clung to her grasp and with this she lazily toyed. 
Near by, upon the stump of an old tree which had under- 
gone the stroke of time’s remorseless axe, sat George 
Dome, gazing intently and forcefully into her eyes, that 
wavered and flickered as though his ardor dazzled them, 
and carelessly caressing her tresses which the sunlight 
radiated into a thousand blending hues, or holding her 
hand in his great, hard brown palm, where it nestled like 
the first snow-flake upon the dreariness of a December 
moor. 

“You must,” he was saying, “ I will have my way.” 

She looked upon him appealingly, entreatingly, as the 
young Caucasian slave, after her initiation into the harem, 
might regard the careless throwing of the handkerchief 
by her master. 

“Don’t be so ridiculous, George,” she cried, “I 
never heard of anything so absurd and so preposter- 
ous ! I never was so addressed in the whole course 
of my life, and why I permit it from you exceeds my 
comprehension ! But you are so young, and so foolish, 
that it would be idle for me to dignify your nonsense by 
anger. I cannot, I will not, I shall not I Now I hope 
that is sufficiently definite to satisfy even your perver- 
sity. Come, let us chat like reasonable beings. You 
are so cold-hearted and indifferent, when you know 
that I am in need of your advice. What had I best do 
about the Reverend Mr. Chidsy ? His attentions are 
becoming serious ! He fairly haunts me, and to-day he 
is coming again. I am so tired of him ! Whatever 
fun there was in his awkward endeavors and singular 
protestations, has all worn away ; but he remains as 
inexorable as fate. Had I appreciated the real nature 


122 


A PVOMAJV OF SOJ^JSAr, 


of the man, I would have avoided him as I would a 
mine about to be exploded. But who would expect to 
find ferocity in a lamb ! I am frightened, George. At 
first, I twisted him as easily as I would a worsted skein 
in my hands, but there is a resolute power about him 
that exhibits itself more and more each day. ” 

“ Oh let the galoot propose and be hanged ! You’ll 
be going home soon, and then you can give him 
the cold shake. And we’ll roast him on it in our mock 
programme next Commencement. Such things have 
happened before, they are as common as the word in- 
scrutable ’ in an obituary notice.” 

‘ ‘ But oh, George, ” cried the girl, excitedly turning in 
the hammock, her form undulating as though it were 
tossed upon the crest of a wave, “He would kiss me, 
and I could not endure his kisses. He is so noxious 
and uncanny. The touch of his hands is as repulsive 
as would be the caress of a serpent. They are so long, 
and so flexible in their joints, and so cold, and so damp, 
that they seem like the tentacles of a Sepia ; and yet he 
burns so with inward fire. Then, too, he has a habit of 
secretly munching upon bits of elm bark, and the con- 
tact of his lips would be like the application of a poul- 
tice. He has sometimes looked at me so strangely 
Avhen I have sought his condolence, ” and Marcia pout- 
ed in mockery, “that I have very quickly armed my- 
self with dignity and reserve. He makes one feel like 
a poor forlorn captive upon a cannibal isle. Not but 
that I like kisses,” she continued, after a moment’s 
pause while the pearly freshness of her cheeks deepened 
into pink, that most rare and delicious of hues in pearls, 
“ But that depends. You ought to know, George, 
whether I like them or not.” And she glanced languish- 
ingly upon him from under her half-closed lids. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


123 

To gain one such gleam of passionate revelation and 
regard, Jonas would have joyfully thrust his right arm 
into a caldron of boiling pitch, or would have willingly 
pledged the salvation of his soul, and have sustained 
the eternal torments of that actual and physical hell in 
which he so firmly believed. But it fell shattered against 
the impregnable buttress of George’s stolidity. He 
turned his eyes towards her listlessly, he nibbled a little 
upon a blade of grass which he had been twisting around 
his finger, he whistled a few notes of incredulity, and 
then he replied : 

‘^That won’t do, you know. You’ve shown me 
plainly enough how much you think of me. I ain’t no 
fool ! Actions speak louder than words, and you’ve gone 
dead back on me and no mistake.” 

Marcia’s lips trembled like twin sisters led into mar- 
tyrdom, and her breast heaved irregularly with conflict- 
ing emotions ; as will the placid bosom of the silvery 
lake when the tempest rends the clouds and down the 
valleys between the surrounding hills, the fierce blasts 
in contention sweep. But George remained with all of 
the tranquillity of silence upon the stump whose iron 
like fibres symbolized his own obduracy, in bovine con- 
tentment and fleshly repose. His broad, athletic thighs 
were outstretched, and his massive shoulders were 
well thrown back and revealed the lustiness of his 
throat. 

“ You know that I would do anything for you,” she 
faltered. 

Well .? ” 

A long pause ensued, for hesitation clogged her 
speech. Desire and prudence argued within her, and 
determination had not yet decided their controversy. 
Tears ringed her eyes with pathos. With the crimson 


124 


A IVOMAN- OF SOREIi. 


tip of her serpentine tongue, she soothed her tremulous 
lips. And between them glistened the sheen of her 
iridescent teeth. 

George bent to the ground and selected a large piece 
of bark, which the mischievous fingers of the wind had 
peeled from one of the trees. He opened his jack-knife, 
and with all of the deftness that constant whittling in 
moments of idleness can give to a school boy, he rapidly 
carved the rough but distinct outlines of a man kneeling 
in adoration. And while he worked, he softly whistled 
the refrain of A frog he would a wooing go.” 

Marcia gasped with indignation. How brutish, how 
sodden of feeling he was I How Satyr-like in his utter 
lack of sensibility ! What evil had possessed her that she 
should be moved by so dull a clod 1 Where was her 
shame ? Where was her pride in the superiority of her 
sex ? For an instant that self-contempt which traitors 
know oppressed her. Prudence summoned abashment 
to her assistance, and their attack seemed about to prove 
successful, when the sound of the ringing of the Acad- 
emy bell thrilled the air. 

Recitation I I must be off. Ta-ta,” cried George, 
as he dashed down the path in a desperate race with 
time and distance. She watched the buoyancy of his 
step, the haughty carriage of his head, the careless swing 
of his brawny arms, and the mightiness of his stride. 
Full well did she now know what evil had possessed 
her. 

George, oh George, I will,” she exclaimed. He 
stopped and turned and waved his hand to her. 

‘‘ I thought you would,” he triumphantly laughed, 
and then breaking again into a run, his rapidly retreat- 
ing figure faded from her sight, 

After his departure, Marcia quietly swayed in harmo- 


A WOMAN OF SOFEK. 


125 

nious vibration with the bending tree tops, which seemed 
to join in the universal homage that her charms exact- 
ed. The burr and drone of animated nature lulled her 
senses into sweet forgetfulness. Only dreamy thoughts 
engaged her mind, and they must have been pleasant 
ones, for smiles awakened the dimples of her cheeks. 
She lay as if fondled in the lap of the breeze, and hushed 
by the Soothing voice of autumn. The peace of phys- 
ical contentment and mental inactivity wrapped her 
with perfect repose. 

Perhaps the god of sleep flying before the advancing 
day would have led her a willing prisoner in his train, 
had not a low gentle voice almost querulous in its 
minor tones aroused her energyj and glancing upward 
she saw her cousin Naomi standing beside her. Naomi 
it surely was ; but a far different, vastly changed 
Naomi, from the vigorous young girl, surcharged with 
ardor and vim and nervous force, who had upon the 
campus but a few weeks since so discomfited the boys 
in their onslaught upon Jonas. The kindly sun of her 
love had grown torrid and intense. Its rays no longer 
cherished but withered and blighted ; and her nature 
had drooped from aridity and from the foul vapors of 
distrust and suspicion and indignity which they had 
created. Her vitality had been absolute faith, and this 
she had forever lost Like the modest pansy, which 
the zephyrs had deserted, and whose stem the rugged 
storm had ruthlessly broken as a giant might rend the 
palpitating breast of a swallow, she was beautiful with 
the fading beauty of the rainbow. Sadness enslaved 
her expression, and from her eyes the light of other 
worlds shone with melancholy significance. 

“How quiet, how restful, you seem, Marcia,” she 
said, “ Like vmto ^ soul whose memories have been 


126 


A WOMAN OF SOFFA. 


quenched by the waters of the Lethe. I have been 
upon my feet since dawn, and even now am neglecting 
a task that is still undone ; for I am stifling for a draught 
of fresh air, and for the cool breath of the hills.” 

“The more fool you, ” yawned Marcia inconsequently 
and indifferently. 

“I am not so strong as I used to be,” continued 
Naomi apologetically. “And that wearisome pain in 
my side never leaves me. Then, too, such weird 
thoughts absorb my attention, that at times I find myself 
dreaming in utter forgetfulness of my work. It is an 
effort for me to concentrate my faculties upon the pres- 
ent duty. ” 

Marcia regarded her cousin with the cold interest of 
an anatomist, who proves the wonders of the disease 
and heeds not the agony of the subject. She perceived 
that she was pallid and wan, that her complexion was 
translucent with debility, and that beneath her serious 
eyes, pain had drawn its dark expressive lines. 

“ I greatly fear, my sweet coz, that it is not toil alone 
that oppresses you. How about the little Pagan god, 
who though blind and naked and childish, is still so 
mighty? Is the heart of the sainted Jonas impervious 
to his arrow ? Ah, how iconoclastic is theology ! Its 
hammers have shattered the proudest shrines of the 
ancient cult, and their deities are powerless to avenge 
the sacrilege, so formidably accoutered are its soldiers. ” 
And Marcia uttered a malicious little laugh, as cool as 
the ripple of forest spring over a moss-clad rock. 

“Oh, Marcia, I must talk to some one, and so I will 
to you ; though you are so changed since you first ob- 
tained my confidence. My heart is breaking. I can- 
not sleep, I cannot eat, and uncertainty is killing me. 
He is so cold and distant towards me, and now shuns 


A WOMAN OF SOFFA: 


127 

my presence, I know that he does ! Won’t you help me, 
won’t you advise me, you must understand the reason 
for this difference ? What have I done ? What does it 
mean ? Does he tell you, you are with him so much ? 
Yet I know that you do not care for him as I do, you 
ridicule him so ; though how you can wrong so noble 
a man passes my comprehension.” 

‘‘Care for him,” sneered Marcia, “Yes, as much as I 
do for the moth that falls scorched and helpless from 
the light. Poor fool, he amuses me ! His antics and 
contortions are diverting. I could heartily enjoy wit- 
nessing a bear dancing upon heated plates, and the 
knowledge of his pain would not mitigate my pleasure. 
He is my bear. As for what he says about you, his 
remarks I must confess, for candor is a cousinly virtue, 
are not flattering. He believes that you are selfish and 
indolent ; and that you shamefully neglect your poor 
mother to flirt with the boys, especially with that fro- 
ward and unconscionable young rascal George Dome. 
He actually thinks that his duty will cause him to sternly 
admonish you for your manifold sins and weaknesses. ” 

Naomi grew as pale as is the outline of the Matterhorn 
against the night. Her breath struggled in her throat in 
the paroxysms of hysteria ; yet she bravely strove to 
control herself as she replied. 

“What malign power possesses you, Marcia 1 For 
it is you who has misrepresented and betrayed me. 
When you came to Armway, my heart was yearning 
for the solace of a friend, and I buried you deep within 
it. My life had been so constrained, so narrow, so irk- 
some, that you were the realization of a glorious ideal. 
Have I ever offended you ? Have I ever been disloyal 
to you ? Surely I endeavor to be kind and attentive. 
Your service was love, and I was as happy in it as are 


128 


A PVOMAJV OF SOJ^£Jir. 


the angels in their labors. Yet you seek my undoing 
and glory in it. Oh, I am so miserable. 

The lines of restraint broke into quivers upon her face, 
slie buried it within her hands, and between her fingers 
the hot tears of anguish trickled. Marcia became trans- 
formed. Her cheeks narrowed, her nose and chin 
elongated, her eyes grew more almond-shaped, and from 
their corners shot out that sinister light with which the 
tiger illumines the jungle. 

“I will tell you,’' she cried, ‘‘something that I rarely 
tell, and that is the truth. For you are such a low-spirited 
little ninny that you would never betray me. I hate you 
because you are, what I only seem to be, good and true and 
pure. I hate these very words which describe your im- 
maculate attributes, and their sanctimonious meanings. 
I abhor excellence. Do you suppose that I care for the 
drivel of that hypocrite ? He wearies me, oh, he wearies 
me so ; yet his devotion proves my sway, and heightens 
my self-esteem, and wipes away the uncomfortable 
sense of inferiority which your virtues produce. I love 
to destroy his ideals, to arouse his passion and to coerce 
his will. I love success and conquests and submission, 
for I am seducing and beautiful, and am entitled to the 
allegiance of all. Besides I love to tease and to annoy, 
while I seem to caress and to condole. You fairly chal- 
lenged me when you expatiated so sentimentally upon 
this paragon, and you shall see him at my feet. The 
flesh shall conquer the spirit ! And behold, here he comes 
over the lawn at this most auspicious instant, groping 
along in the intensity of his reverie like a mole or a 
somnambulist ! ” 

Naomi hastily glanced towards the house. Yes, there 
was Jonas plodding towards them with all of the deter- 
mination of step that marks a rustic militia man, uncon- 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


129 

scious as yet of their proximity, but evidently seeking 
the hammock in hopes of there finding Marcia. 

“ What shall I do, what shall I do,” she moaned, “ I 
cannot meet him and expose to his inquiries my tear-’ 
stained face. ” 

Beyond the hammock, the shrubbery grew high and 
dense ; and shrouded by it from all observation, in the 
angle of the fence, was a rustic seat. Thither in her 
agitation, Naomi hastened ; nor did she appreciate un- 
til it was too late that there she must remain a prisoner 
and an unwilling listener. But Marcia realized the situ- 
ation at once, and a sparkle of malicious enjoyment 
brightened her face. In the anticipation of her triumph, 
she rapidly matured a plan of action ; nor did she heed 
nor consider the ultimate results that might follow its 
execution, so carried away was she by mischievous 
intent. She summoned him to her side. 

I am resting,” she said, “ The hot air of the kitchen 
after so many hours oppressed and stifled me. I longed 
for the breeze with its tonic of hemlock and pine, for the 
deep matchless blue of the sky, and for the great fleecy 
clouds. They seem to be the border-land of hea'S'en, 
and as I watched them just now, I thought that per- 
chance my journey was nearing its end, and that soon 
I would be there, ‘ Where the wicked cease from 
troubling and the weary are at rest' Then such deep 
contentment enwrapped me. But you do not disturb 
me, Mr. Chidsy, though others might do so. The sym- 
pathy of a true friend increases the pleasure of such 
contemplation. But pray pardon me, if I still continue 
to lie here for I am so fatigued.” 

“ Hojv wrong it is of you. Miss Clenton,” exclaimed 
Jonas clasping his long hands together so earnestly that 
his fingers snapped like whip cords, “ How wrong it is 


130 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


to expose your fragile form to these exhausting and de- 
meaning labors ! You, who have been so tenderly 
reared ! See what an effect it has upon the ordinary buoy- 
ancy of your spirit ! It is not the divine purpose to im- 
pose too heavy a burden, and when you assume it, you 
exceed your duty. I tell you with all of the spiritual 
authority of your pastor, that such exertions are positively 
sinful. ” 

“Call it not demeaning ! If you could see the light 
break over poor old Auntie s wrinkled face, when I of- 
fer to assist her, you would rather term it ennobling.’' 

“Yes, so it would be, if necessity demanded it. But 
she is not bereft. There is her daughter, her wicked 
neglectful daughter ! Does she not owe filial obligation ? 

“Do not ask me, Mr. Chidsy. Is it not written, ‘Judge 
not that ye be not judged ’ ? ” 

Solemn and slow were her accents as she uttered these 
words. She straightened herself still more in the ham- 
mock ; and with eyes half closed, and nostrils distend- 
ed, lay as motionless as a prophetess in the trance that 
precedes inspiration. Upon her brow Jonas traced the 
touch of care and of lassitude. Deep indignation seized 
him, and he yielded to it, for he knew that it was right- 
eous. 

“ It is a duty, that both time and eternity impose up- 
on the priesthood, to unflinchingly condemn evil, no 
matter how fair and how pleasing the form in which it 
manifests itself. The dragon must be trampled under 
foot. And I would be recreant to my vows and to my 
order should I avoid it. Her conduct towards her mother, 
and towards you, her guest, is abominable. Let her 
heed the warning of the decalogue, lest her days, not 
yours, be brief and nigh to their close. I feel as though 
I could never again address her, save in words of cen- 


A IVOMAN OF SOFE/C, 


131 

sure and stern rebuke ; and these, when the first oppor- 
tunity presents itself, I shall unflinchingly administer. ’ 

Marcia waved her hand as if in deprecation. As it 
fell towards her side, it brushed against his knee, and 
for an instant there lingered. In that instant he grasped 
it strongly within his own ; and its faint touch changed 
the current of his thoughts as completely as will the fall 
of a crag divert a mountain stream. Oh, delicious little 
hand ; so expressive, so sentient ! How penetrating its 
glow ! How subtle the magic of its palm ! The si- 
lence of consciousness surrounded them. The garden 
smiled in the sunlight, and exhaled perfumes from 
natures laboratory. Upon the bough above them two 
birds twittered their love in the universal language of 
creation. 

“How happy I am,” sighed Marcia, and slowly the 
heavily draped curtains of her eyes unfolded, and ten- 
derness and truth beamed upon him. 

“Can my dreams be true,” cried Jonas, as he sank 
upon his knees beside her. “Am I indeed the most 
blessed of men ! Oh, my darling, how I love you, how 
I worship you ! I kiss the hem of your garment, the 
latchet of your sandal. Like Jacob for seven long years 
would I serve to gain thee, and deem them, the most 
precious sand from the vase of time. You ^ro my pearl, 
my ideal, my divinity ! Never before loved man as Ido 
love, and never before has soul of mortal been so glad- 
dened. I am yours, unalterably, absolutely ! Take me 
and mould me as you will. I am like clay in’the hands 
of the potter. I have no thought, no yearning, no ambi- 
tion, no desire, except for thee. Thou art my future 
and my heaven ! ” 

He threw his arms about her, and leant his head upon 
her breast. Strongly he could hear her heart beat, and 


132 


A IVOMA2V OF SOA^EA\ 


each throb seemed to promise fidelity and devotion. 

“You know that I love you, Jonas,” she simply re- 
plied, as she soothed with the caress of a mothers 
hand his thick masses of hair. “ Why should I not, 
you are so good, so noble, so truly manly and upright. 
Long have I known that the affection of a devout man 
was an inestimable jewel ; and now, how happy am I 
to be adorned with it.” 

‘ ‘ Side by side down life’s valley will we advance 
together. Mine be the task, my darling, to pluck all 
thorns and thistles from your pathway, and mine be 
the delight You could readily render me a villain ; for 
crime at your suggestion would seem to be honorable. 
But since you are the ineffable being of purity that you 
are, I must be a man of piety, such an one as I have as- 
pired to be in the full hope of my career when the clouds 
of doubt and despondency had not gathered.” 

“ You are untrue to yourself, dear one. Your nature 
is too grand to yield to the assault of sin. You would 
not be human, were you not tempted ; you would not 
be yourself, did you not resist and conquer. Not but 
that I hope to prove a help and a comfort to you, though 
the utterance of such a thought sounds presumptuous. ” 

“ Marcia, I know my heart far better then ever 
before. The forces of my love have thoroughly up- 
rooted and revealed it to me. Within me struggle 
passions that are fierce and masterful. I tremble 
when I realize how they would rend me, were you 
now to be lost to me. Your influence were it not holy, 
would be terrific in its potency ! 

And Jonas shivered and moaned and pressed her closer 
and closer to him. She reassured him with calm restful 
words, until the turmoil of his soul had ceased. Then 
his faqe «hone. with a radiance that beautified it Joy 


A WOMAN' OF SORE^. 


m 

gleamed within his eyes;. he looked upon Marcia and 
he laughed aloud. Standing to his full height, he ex- 
panded his chest and stretched his arms forth towards 
the skies in exultation. She watched him with the im- 
passive scrutiny of an oracle inspecting the entrails of 
a victim. She joined him and stood by his side. Their 
lips met in a kiss that thrilled him, from tip of toe to the 
crinkles of his locks, with a full knowledge of passion. 
Weird lights, blue and yellow and crimson, flashed be- 
fore him ; and in his ear resounded the voice of the 
ocean. 

“ In the heaven of thy smile may I forever dwell," 
he exclaimed. 

They turned and slowly strolled down the garden 
walk ; but as they reached the shrubbery, a low moan 
and the muffled plunge of a fall arrested them. Like 
that inexorable spouse of the doomed Macbeth listening 
for Duncan’s mortal shriek, like England’s haughty virgin 
Queen awaiting the step of the retainer who would her- 
ald the fall of the axe upon Mary’s slender neck, Marcia 
stood in silent expectancy. Only the quivering clutch 
of her fingers denoted her suppressed excitement. But 
Jonas, springing to the other side, uttered a cry of hor- 
ror. For there lay Naomi, in death-like insensibility ; 
her pretty, white garments dabbled and stained by the 
thin stream of blood, which stole from between her 
colorless lips. 


A IVOMAiV OF S OFF AT. 


134 


CHAPTER XL 

Naomi was very ill, so ill that even her mother, who had 
always treated her as if she embodied the principles 
of perpetual motion and durability, admitted it. So ill 
was she that for once that cackling voice did not awaken 
the echoes of her name within the house, as it had a 
hundred times a day during the preceding ten years. 
So ill was she that the boys in their rooms were noise- 
less ; and the accustomed sounds of clogging, of wrest- 
ling and of singing, and the dulcet strains of melancholy 
flute and of simple harmonica were no longer heard. 
The silence of vacation enclosed the grim old halls. 
Moreover, wonderful though it be to relate, the village 
doctor had been summoned, an event that had not 
transpired in the annals of the family since he had as- 
sisted in his feeble way in the shuffling off of the mortal 
coil that had bound the lamented “ J. M." to the cares 
and woes of this life. Surprised indeed he had been 
when he had received this demand upon his professional 
services ; for Mrs. Clenton was well known to be a stout 
believer in the efficacy of home-made medicines and 
mixtures of “ Yarbs,” since they possessed two invalu- 
able qualifications in her sight, being both cheap and 
nasty. And he wondered as he drove thither, in his gig 
which had rattled a contemptuous challenge to age for 
a half century, whether this visit would in any way 
legally renew and revive his old account for ghostly 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


135 


services then rendered, which the stricken widow had 
never recovered sufficiently from her grief to calmly 
consider and liquidate. For the doctor was growing 
very old ; and, like his drugs which he had purchased 
and stored, when he had attained that dizzy height of 
learning which honors the daring adventurer with a 
physician’s degree, he had lost to a certain extent his 
strength and powers. So he maundered over this by- 
gone indebtedness, and “ thought it was only right 
that it should,” this being the ordinary process of men- 
tal activity by which he arrived at any definite conclu- 
sion from a dose to a diagnosis, 

III indeed was Naomi. She lay upon her little couch 
like a drowned maiden upon the bosom of a lonely 
pool. Her hands were crossed upon her breast ; and 
her hair was tossed back over the waves of her pillow, 
like masses of sea weed upon the foam of the ocean’s 
surge. Her eyes, darker, deeper, more mystical than 
ever before, made luminous the pallor and the gray of 
her cheek. The quiver of an aspen, in the portentous 
hush that precedes the tempest, was more perceptible 
than the ripple of her breath. Her room, of course, for 
space was valuable, was in the highest story, nestling 
with the swallows under the eaves of the great brick 
building. It was as exquisitely neat as is the abode of a 
Shakeress ; and an air of chaste and severe refinement 
distinguished its barrenness and poverty. The chintz 
curtains and draperies of the chairs and settles flowered 
brightly ; the yellow boards shone like a pavement of 
inlaid gold in the sunlight ; while the crystal of the 
little plain mirror, framed with painted deal, reflected 
the verdure of the hills and the cerulean tints of the sky. 

In the rooms upon the lower floor the bustle of every 
day still triumphantly ruled. For dollars and cents out- 


A WOMAN OF SOREN 


136 

weigh sentiment in importance. When they accord it is 
all very well ; but when they contend, the former must 
prevail ; since the sheen of gold is eternal, and the 
light of love is evanescent. Her mother hurried with 
her work with the greed and thrift of a contractor, 
whose eagerness had exceeded honesty. The incessant 
squeak of her heelless shoes expressed the anguish of 
her lacerated spirit ; but it also denoted her unswerving 
loyalty to pelf She had obtained, in the dire necessity 
that foreboded the hiring of additional help, the assist- 
ance of a cousin upon her husband’s side, who in com- 
mon with all others of his family possessed the blessed- 
ness of meekness in a marked degree. And she, poor 
soul, whose prolonged and attenuated spinsterhood 
had seldom overstepped the bounds of a distant farm- 
house, where she had faithfully nurtured irritability and 
imbecility in the shape of her decrepit parents, had as- 
sumed with joy the yoke which Naomi had so patiently 
borne. The future had broadened into pleasurable 
vistas before her ; and she had welcomed the unremit- 
ting toil and lowly labor, with all of the appetite of a 
poverty-stricken epicure who is unexpectedly invited to 
a feast. Samantha was her name, and like it she was 
long and jointed and angular. Contentment and grief 
strove to control her countenance as she glided hither 
and thither at Mrs. Clenton’s beck and call, with the 
submissive aptitude of a Helot. Hope had not spurned 
her humility ; but had kindled the thought within her 
that her life might become more attractive, “should 
anything happen to poor, dear Naomee. ” She recalled 
with the minuteness and exaggeration of envy, the 
closet that contained Naomi’s meagre wardrobe. How 
capacious and how well filled it seemed to her ! What 
stores of fare fabrics were there concealed, which might 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


m 

become her own, under the dispensation of a discrimi- 
nating Providence ! 

O, poor humanity, how limitless is thy wretched- 
ness ; since each sorry lot possesses a charm ! How 
infinitesimal is the divine spark of thy charity; since sel- 
fishness can always cap it ! Unfortunate and bereft 
indeed is the mortal, about whose death-bed stand not 
eager-eyed avarice and grasping expectancy ! 

Again and anon, the kitchen door, which had been 
carefully left ajar, would silently swing and the wife of 
a neighbor or of a church dignitary would mournfully 
yet excitedly enter. Each one was fully prepared in 
the part she was about to play, and the unanimity of 
condolence would have been delightful, had it not been 
so pathetic. No one shirked, but all cheerfully joined 
in increasing the confused murmur of sympathy that 
sweetened the air. “ It is so sad,'’ and “We must all 
bend to His will,” and “Is she conscious .? ” and “Does 
she suffer much ” and “ Has the minister been here? ” 
were the expressions which arose like clouds of incense 
enwrapping a bier, and assuaged the widow’s grief. 
Her self-importance expanded. She felt that she was 
the central figure in a domestic tragedy ; and that mis- 
fortune had rendered her interesting, which is often the 
apex of feminine ambition. So she yielded to the in- 
direct but seductive flattery of their attentions, and re- 
garded herself with compassion. She was so brave, 
she had been so tried, she had withstood so much ! In 
her sorrow she quite ignored Naomi’s suffering, and 
only regarded it objectively, as it affected her own most 
precious self 

“ It’s a comfort though,” she remarked, “that I have 
my weeds packed away safe and sound, sence I took on 
colors two yearns arter poor dear ‘J. M.’ went They 


A WOMAN OF SOREN 


138 

be so expensive, and along with everything else, it all 
costs a deal. ” 

“ Yes, indeed it do,” replied a gossip who was seek- 
ing oriental stimulus from a very thin drawing of sup- 
posititious tea, an especial honor which was vouchsafed 
to her alone, in recognition of the unparalleled capabili- 
ties of her tear-ducts. 

The old doctor ambled in and tottered upstairs, at- 
tended, like an eastern potentate, by a train of admiring 
women ; most of whom had received his ministrations 
in what they termed “family matters,” and could, if they 
chose, and they did very often choose, relate pleasing 
anecdotes of his skill and geniality. And though he 
seemed to be ten years older, when he exchanged the 
sure support of his gig for the uncertain waverings of 
his knees ; yet he was imbued with so learned an air, 
he tapped his snuff-box and shook his bandanna with 
such assurance, that the glances which heroes court 
were lavished upon him. They crowded about with 
explanation and suggestion ; yet they were so careful 
not to disturb, that their shrill whispers cut the atmos- 
phere like the agonizing whiz of a buzz saw. But 
Naomi heeded it not ; and when he vacillated down the 
stairs, they all accompanied him confident in the belief 
that they had been helpful and neighborly. 

“Trust to nature,” he repeatedly iaid, “She is a slow 
but sure nurse. All that we can do is to assist her. ” 
And, since it is as natural to die as it is to breathe, it is 
possible that he did, with his hap-hazard doses of drugs 
mixed by judgment alone, very often succeed in this 
endeavor. What a comfort it was to have his services 
at such a trying time ! No one knew what might happen, 
and if it did happen, how consoling was the thought 
that everything had been done that could have been 


A WOMAA^ OF SOREK. 


139 

done I Then too his presence was as quieting as a nerve 
tonic. He had seen so many bodies and souls quarrel 
and separate, that this experience had given to him a 
serenity that affected them all. Besides he was so en- 
tertaining, and gathered so much news during his daily 
peregrinations from household to household, and regaled 
it with such relish ; and said so many, many things that 
no man can say except a family physician, that sorrow 
and remembrance were disordered and routed. 

The minister came, solemn, dignified and composed ; 
for the ill-omen of his coming was impersonal in its 
boding, and his health was without a blemish. His 
black coat clung to his form without fold or wrinkle, his 
linen was spotless, his voluminous tie was snowy and 
perfectedly adjusted, and he bore himself with the rigid- 
ity of a pipe-clayed veteran. He, too, climbed the creak- 
ing stairs and sat beside the sick girl. And his voice was 
sympathetic and gentle as he stroked her forehead and 
hand, and repeated the blessed promises that his Creed 
had taught him. She watched him closely with her 
deep brown eyes, wide spread, and glittering with the 
fading light of stars awaiting the dawn ; but she spake 
not, nor showed sign of recognition. And he, good 
man that he was, knowing her as well as he knew the 
child of his bosom whom he had fondled upon his knee 
and rocked within his arms, and appreciating that peace- 
ful would be his death-bed, could he then attain her love 
and confidence in God, silently withdrew from the room, 
a tear, born of sincerity and not of deportment, uncon- 
sciously creeping from under his iron-rimmed glasses. 
But when he reached the convocation of comfortable 
and comforting ‘ ‘ Sisters in the Lord, ”, he speedily re- 
gained his equanimity. All waited his advent with the 
agreeable anticipation and certainty which greets the 


140 


A fVOMAAr OF S0JP£A\ 


progress of a twice told tale. For each one had known 
sorrow, and its salaried recompense. 

The widowed mother, with well selected, oft conned 
and spoken phrases, was admonished to bear her burdens 
with resignation ; and so. upheld by friends, physician, 
and spiritual adviser, the widowed mother became more 
and more submissive. The unusual excitement, so dif* 
ferent from her daily routine of scrimping and starving, 
stimulated her. There were so many things to consider, 
so mar^r to discuss. She must control herself, and be- 
have like a woman of sense. Poor dear, of course it 
was hard to plan concerning the worst, but it is best to 
be always prepared. If that sad overshadowing event 
should occur, everything should be done decently and 
in order. Her standing in the community demanded 
this. And yet, there should be no extravagance. The 
necessary expense must be reasonable and moderate, 
for she belonged to and sprang from plain, honest. God- 
fearing people. All the relations upon both branches of 
the family tree must of course be notified ; and since 
they would come from homes scattered and distant, a 
lunch must be provided for them. Cold ? Oh, yes, cold 
meats for a funeral, that was much more seemly; and 
then so much in the house could be utilized. Besides, 
for a few days, the boys could not expect to receive 
their regular meals. They could just as well as not dine 
at the commons, or at the village restaurant ; and what 
a saving this would be, more thaii sufficient to pay for 
such an entertainment, \yell, well, how true it is that 
every cloud has a silver lining, and how tempered is the 
wind to the shorn lamb ! So Mrs. Clenton communed 
with her neighbors, and thought after thought flashed 
through her aroused and active mind, and found ready 
utterance upon her tireless lips. 


A WOMAN- OF SOREK. 


141 


Samantha, good-natured soul, was in peripatetic and 
intermittent attendance upon her work and upon Naomi. 
She was bewildered by the incompatibilities of her 
instruction. She must perform each household labor 
faithfully, but she must also carefully watch and attend 
the patient. So in endeavoring to perform two duties at 
one time, she failed in both. When she was in the sick 
room, Naomi’s extreme quiet re-assured her, and the 
scolding voice of her mistress would ring in her ears 
summoning her to her work. But when she resumed 
her toil, then the yearning, questioning light of those 
beseeching eyes would pervade her intelligence, and 
call her away again. For when she had arrived at the 
house, Naomi had asked for her, and in the faltering 
tones of debility had begged her to convey the message 
to Jonas Chidsy, that she must speak with him. This 
she had promised to do, and, as she thought, had to the 
letter performed. Of course, she could not personally 
attend to it, for Mrs. Clenton’s vigilance imprisoned her, 
neither would she have known Jonas had she encoun- 
tered him. So she had sought Marcia, and had commu- 
nicated Naomi’s wish to her, and she had willingly and 
eagerly assumed the mission, and had straightway de- 
parted upon her quest, reminding Samantha as she 
glided down the garden path in her clinging draperies 
of white, of an angel obeying the mandates of God. 

And hour after hour, Naomi lay patiently waiting, 
earnestly questioning her attendant’s face when she en- 
tered, and as each time she shook her head, sadly closing 
her eyes. The doctor in his long years of practice had 
committed by rote certain maxims of wisdom, one of 
which, “Extreme rest and quiet,” he had prescribed in 
this case with all of the erudition of an almanac. Indeed 
it was apparent to the most inexperienced that in the 


142 


ri WOMEN OF SOREK, 


faithful adherence to this direction lay Naomi's one 
chance of recovery ; since any abrupt movement or the 
slightest exertion upon her part would in all probability 
produce another hemorrhage. Full well did she ap- 
preciate her danger, for she possessed perfect conscious- 
ness, though at times her mind seemed to her to be far 
lighter than the air, and like a bird poised with outspread 
pinions upon the edge of its native nest, to be struggling 
impatiently for flight. Her disposition had always been 
sunny and happy. She had acknowledged her lot, and 
the futility of affecting it by grief or repining. Each 
night, when she had sunk upon her knees, by her little 
cot, upon the old, thread-bare mat that was more pre- 
cious in the sight of the All Wise then the most costly 
prayer-rug in the boudoir of fashion, she had thanked 
her God for the many blessings that He had bestowed 
upon her, and she had thanked Him from her heart. 

But now, when life's horizon had suddenly contracted, 
and its limits were within hand's reach, no fear nor re- 
gret haunted her soul. For the first time, she realized 
that if unhappiness resulted from circumstances alone, 
she should ever have been very unhappy. The years 
rolled back before her mental vision, and she was as- 
tonished as she recognized herself toiling, continually 
toiling. One word expressed her girlhood, that tender 
age of solicitous nurture and maternal cherishing, and 
that was drudgery. Hard and ungracious this existence 
had been, and now, should the slumber of death encom- 
pass her, she would welcome its touch as the caress ot 
a new and trusty friend, and would willingly sink into 
its embrace, confident that no nightmare of sin could 
disturb its kindly and serene repose. 

Her thoughts riveted themselves upon Jonas, and she 
appreciated and now admitted to herself, since it was 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


*43 

all so impossible, that the hope of gaining his compan- 
ionship, of winning his love, and of becoming a help- 
mate to him, had been her buoyant support. How 
rudely the in compassionate waves of fate had dashed it 
from her ! Yet she sorrowed not for herself, but for 
him ! Poor child ! Her experience with mankind had 
been so limited ; she knew so little, she believed so 
much. He seemed to her to be the ideal man of gentle- 
ness and of truth, filled with holy desires and noble am- 
bitions, humbly following the indelible footprints of the 
Saviour, and enriching the world by his example, and by 
the charity of his ministrations. It had shocked her, 
and had terribly wrung her innocent heart to hear from 
his very lips, her own undeserved condemnation. But 
this sense of unjust contumely had passed away, and 
her interest and anxiety were centered upon his future 
welfare. He was so sensitive, so easily moved, so 
easily wounded. What would become of him should 
he discover Marcia’s true nature and regard.? What 
would become of him if he should not.? With that vivid- 
ness, which is a recompense of death, she read her 
cousin’s motives in her deeds. She perceived that it 
was her own concealed presence which had so stirred 
Marcia that, overbalanced by delight in the anguish 
she was thus occasioning, she had forced him to his 
avowal, and herself to its acceptance. Still, even if 
this were so, would she not now cling to him.? He 
possessed so many qualifications that worldliness could 
covet ! He was so talented, so handsome, and of such 
irreproachable character ! Would she not conclude that 
she could not better herself ; and by clinging to him, 
ruin him in body and in soul ? For Naomi could see 
naught but ruin in such a union ; ruin of that life work 
which promised such benefits to hunianitj^ ; ruin of that 


144 


A WOMAAT OF SOREK. 


g^entle, godly, guileless spirit, which was such patent 
proof of man’s divine origin and nature. But on the 
other hand, should she toss him away like a worn glove, 
or a flavorless fruit, how terrific would be the shock to 
his sensibilities and to his beliefs ! How bitter and 
skeptical might he grow, and how hardened and obdu- 
rate might his character become ! A heart-rending dis- 
appointment, a blasting of pure unselfish hopes, surely 
awaited him. In one case it might eat away his soul 
with the slow rust of years, in the other, consume it 
with the lightning’s flash. 

Yet she knew which fate would be more propitious 
for his future ; and she would save him before she died, 
and then she would most willingly die ! She would save 
him from Marcia, and from himself ! Severe would be 
the blow ; but it would be delivered openly and full in 
the face, for friendship hath no poisoned stiletto. Be- 
sides, his faith would withstand a sudden shock ; it 
might be weakened by the insidiousness of time. Better 
the tear of sympathy, than the smile of treachery. 
Better the sorrowful tones of sincerity, than the trium- 
phant jeer of ridicule ! Yes, she would warn him, if he 
would only come in time ! Such constant thought 
wearied her so, and she so longed for rest. Through 
the little, diamond-shaped window of her room, she 
could see the hills wreathing her view with their shadowy 
green. How peaceful was their sleep, so far removed 
from the turmoil of the world below ! How enticing, 
in the dreamy allurements of its vast depth and trans- 
lucency, was the blue above them ! She could wait no 
longer. When the wavering of her bewildered intellect 
again induced Samantha to enter, in forced tones of 
eagerness she asked her whether Jonas had surely re- 
4:ei ved her message. ‘ ‘ Certainly he has, ” was the con- 


A IVOMAN OF SOREK. 


145 


fident reply. “And now go to sleep in peace, dearie, 
and tranquilly await his coming. For I sent it to him 
early this morning by your cousin, and he must soon 
be here." 

Naomi closed her eyes, and Samantha, satisfied that 
her mandate would be obeyed, and timorous lest the 
hush of voices on the lower floor boded renewed vigi- 
lance upon Mrs. Clenton's part, stealthily crept from the 
room. Yes, “ sleep in peace," knowing that life, like a 
cruel taskmaster hath reserved its heaviest burdens for 
the closing hours of fatigue and weakness ! “Tranquilly 
await his coming," knowing full well that that message 
hath joined the myriads of undelivered ones, which in 
their misadventure so affect human destiny! 

Naomi now felt the bitterness of death. How inex- 
orable, how inflexible it was ! How disdainfully it 
brushed aside, from its pathway, the tangles of mortal 
hope and purposes ; as might a giant, the snare that a lad 
had laid to entrap a bird 1 What could she do, alone and 
helpless, so weak that even the thought of raising her 
hands from her breast exhausted her 1 Must she die, 
and leave him unprepared, unwarned, to deception and 
despair 1 He had always been so kind to her before 
Marcia came ; and was this the reward she returned to 
him .? She reviewed and exaggerated every chance 
meeting with him ; her excited memory recalled every 
glance, and imagination colored it with affection. • On 
this day, they had met in the long lane under the wav- 
ing chestnut boughs ; and he had talked so seriously, 
and with such personal interest, to her of herself and her 
duty. How noble he had appeared, as the cordiality of 
his words had brightened his eye and tinted his cheek ! 
On this day, he had dined with her aunt ; and she had 
sat beside him. How the closeness of his being had 


146 


A WOMAN OF SOREJ^. 


thrilled, yet awed her : and how dignified and priestly 
he had borne himself in his garb of sombre hue ! 

He had been attracted by her, she knew that he had. 
How well she remembered the Sunday when he had for 
the first time been designated to address the congrega- 
tion in the chapel ; and she had sat with hands so tightly 
clasped to still their trembling that each for hours after 
bore the imprint of the other, as she awaited the notes 
of the processional ! And when he had advanced to- 
wards the pulpit, he had instinctively glanced towards 
her for encouragement. And she had read his embar- 
rassment and dread of failure ; and had concentrated 
her soul in prayer for his success ; and when their eyes 
had again met, they had both realized that she had 
helped him. Ah, what a wonderful discourse that had 
been 1 How it had impressed her ! How majestic and 
like unto a prophet of God, that pale young man had 
seemed ! How fearless and terrific had been his denun- 
ciations of the blandishments of the flesh ! How vivid 
had been his picture of the entrapped and ruined man ; 
how scathing his condemnation of that woman who 
dwelt in the valley of Sorek, of Delilah ! 

Delilah — a thought flashed through Naomi’s brain, 
instantaneous in conception and birth ; yet fully de- 
veloped and equipped. She was no longer helpless ; 
she could, she would save him ! She leaped lightly 
from her bed; and her little, bare feet beat a piti- 
ful pit a-pat upon the boards, as she glided towards her 
desk. Heedless of the rapidly revolving room, of the 
strangely varied lights that shot in intense and brilliant 
hues across her vision, of the weird voices that called 
to her in language unintelligible yet dimly familiar, she 
persevered until she reached it. Well was it for her pur- 
pose, that everything was there arranged with her 


A WOMAN OF SOFFk. 


M7 


peculiar neatness ; for her sense of touch alone guided 
her. She quickly found a sheet of paper ; she wrote 
upon it, in trembling characters, a single word ; she 
folded it, and sealed it, and directed it to ** Mr. Jonas 
Chidsy " ; and then, holding it tightly within her 
hand, she staggered again to her couch. 

Once more the lightness and buoyancy of her mind 
affected her ; once more she perceived its flutterings 
towards freedom . A rayless cloud seemed to be set- 
tling upon her, hiding the streaming sunlight from her 
gaze. The beatings of her heart rushed and roared like 
surf upon the lee-shore of destiny. Sharp pains racked 
her chest, and awoke her to herself. She remembered 
how, night after night, when she had been so weary 
that the climbing of the stairs had been a journey almost 
interminable, and when her arms had ached so, from 
the toil which she had undergone, that she could scarcely 
arrange her simple toilet, she had murmured the prayer 
which she had daily repeated from the time when her 
tongue had first learned its cunning, the trustful ut- 
terance of a child to her God ; and, drawing the clothes 
closely about her, had sunk into rest, lulled by the 
thought that she deserved and had earned, by her ar- 
duous labors, its peacefulness. So now, a great and 
perfect calm pervaded her soul. She had done all that 
she could ! She had been faithful to the one whom she 
held most dear ! For him she had exhausted all of her 
power, for him she had forfeited the little respite v^hich 
caution might have granted. He was saved to himself, 
and he was saved by her ! He would know her meaning, 
and his own words would instruct and admonish him. 
Softly fell the whispers of the childish words of the old 
familiar supplication from the ashen lips ; like a shower 
of white roses upon a silver shrine. Carefully the waxen 


148 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC. 


hand gathered the coverings over the quivering breast. 
Again rest, compassionate rest, descended upon the 
little room ; again, and forever. 

The birds sang in the topmost boughs of the sturdy 
trees that swayed beyond the thatched eaves. Life 
attuned their lay ; and each leaf, and the breeze, heavy 
with the fruitful scent of autumn, received and returned 
it The daughters of the soil, overweighted with its 
clay, prattled their silly commonplaces in the apart- 
ments below; the clergyman and the physician, in their 
comfortable homes, were complacently enjoying the 
evening repast ; down by the garden gate, Marcia was 
standing in the statuesque perfection of soulless vitality, 
awaiting the chance tribute to her vanity which the 
passer-by might bestow ; within his Seminary study, 
Jonas was idly dreaming of an impossible bliss ; but in 
the little chamber in the attic, which even thrift had 
disdainfully refused to seize, Naomi lay smiling in death; 
while from between her lips, parted by the happiness 
of her sacrifice, slowly oozed the crimson stream whose 
ebb and flow had, alas ! lost all significance and terror. 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


149 


CHAPTER XII. 

During all of the sad circumstances that combine 
together in producing appropriate obsequies, through- 
out the interregnum of three days which death snatches 
from every household rule, Marcia conducted herself 
with unexceptionable propriety and consideration. Her 
grief, though deep, was unobtrusive and reticent. She 
concealed it from sympathy by her unselfish strivings 
to cheer and to comfort others. She gained the respect- 
ful admiration of the sisterhood who still haunted the 
darkened rooms, by her attention to their needs, and 
by the elegancies of her toilet, which, amid their tears, 
they furtively studied. Of course, at times, her control 
would yield to the voice of incident and association, 
and would break away into tears. Then she seemed 
like some fair statue beneath a fountain, whose beauty, 
though worn by the waters, shines through their man- 
tle with melting and entrancing splendor. She proved 
a ministering angel to her aunt, who, through the force 
of tradition, had speedily become reduced to a condi-^ 
tion of abject helplessness. She assumed the manage- 
ment of the house. She arranged for fhe temporary 
absence of the boys. She knew that she could not take 
her dear dead cousin’s place ; but perhaps she could 
mitigate the awful sense of bereavement ; perhaps she 
CQuld still the boiling seas of anguish with the oil of 


A WOMAN OF SOJiEJir. 


150 

commiseration, at least she would try. And try she did. 
So exemplary was her conduct, that when lethargy 
had succeeded agitation, that is to say the day after the 
funeral, Mrs. Clenton was moved to indite a letter to 
her father in which woe, gratitude, and finance were 
curiously commingled. 

Among other things the good widow wrote : ‘"She 
has been all in all to me in this my latest and severest 
visitation. How I envy you the having of sich a jewel. 
She puts me in mind so of your Ruth who long sence 
went before and with whom my precious one now 
chants heavenly strains beyend all telling. The price 
of staples and all sorts of garding sass is dreadful 
high. How I’m going to get through the winter and 
that with hired help, I don't see, etc.” And so pleased 
was the father to receive this account of his daughter’s 
piety, that his heart bubbled with generous impulses ; 
and the check which he promptly remitted afforded 
quite a handsome surplus after the payment of those 
outlays with which a decent pride encumbered the sad 
event. 

Marcia enjoyed her new role as a sister of charity 
most thoroughly, as long as it lasted ; and she carefully 
provided that its continuance did not exceed her caprice. 
By means of a little exertion and a little apparent self- 
abnegation, she gained celebrity and praise. She 
acquired a reputation for godliness and purity that 
would withstand the assaults of ocular proof For by 
her cajolery, she had permanently retained in her favor 
all the gossips of the vicinity. And she shrewdly sus- 
pected, that such a reputation, so sustained, might per- 
haps in the future become a very fortress in time of 
trouble. Besides, such conduct was appropriate and 
seemly, and she had always possessed a strong inch- 


A IVOMAAT OF SO/^£Ar, 


15 ^ 

nation towards the proprieties of life. Decorum in her 
sight covered a multitude of sins. The interior of the 
sepulchre might be as foul as is the Ganges below Cal- 
cutta ; if only it were completely shrouded by the 
gleaming white marble. She alone knew her own 
character ; for the one who had shared that knowledge 
with her had passed beyond the necessity of calculation. 
She understood, too, how to weave the web that 
enveloped it ; and most skilfully did she mesh each 
thread. 

But, beyond these considerations, there still remained 
one preeminent advantage, and that was that she gained 
a temporary respite from embarrassments which were 
thickening about her. As soon as she had learned of 
her cousin’s demise, she had sent for Jonas, and had 
said to him, so sweetly, so sadly : “ Now, dearie, we 

must be separate for a few days. I have my duty to 
perform here, and no thought even must obtrude upon 
it. I cannot bring my joy into this house of mourning. 
It is very hard, for I do so yearn for your sympathy, 
but it is right. You will be enshrined here,” and she laid 
her hand over her heart. ‘‘ And when I close my eyes 
at night, I will see you.” 

Jonas bowed in submission before such goodness ; 
and went upon his way rejoicing in the blessings that 
had been showered upon him. She thus obtained a 
few days in which to consider, and to endeavor to 
avoid the hurry of events. She was afraid. Fear had 
seized her and was mastering her ; and she, who had 
never known sorrow, nor regret, nor remorse, was 
hourly yielding to the most vulgar and ignoble of pas- 
sions. Never before, in her experience with men, had 
she met so earnest so determined a spirit as Jonas. 
She now appreciated that she had heedlessly kindled a 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


152 

great conflagration, and she trembled before its resisb 
less sweep. Nor could she justly claim that the spark 
had been self-combustible. He had been personally 
repugnant to her since she had known him. Accident 
had formed their acquaintanceship, and wantonness had 
continued it. Before he had ventured upon uttering his 
vows, she had controlled him at arm’s length. She 
had aroused his animal nature, and then had quenched 
its ardor -by appealing to his spiritual calling. She had 
adroitly used his offer of advice and adrhonition as a 
shield, which she interposed between them whenever 
the priest attempted to become the lover. And there 
had been a certain feline enjoyment in thus cozening 
and torturing him. For, if the doctrine of Metempsy- 
chosis had other than a fabled foundation, Marcia had, 
either in the ebbless past, purred with contentment as 
grimalkin, sleek, and sinuous, and stealthy ; and with 
paw of velvet had tantalized the wretched mouse ; or 
she would in the boundless future. 

Her plan, if the unreflected caprice of an idle, brain 
could be so designated, had been to hold him in uncer- 
tainty. and suspense, and restraint, until her visit 
terminated, and then to leave him a jest- unto himself. 
So George had advised her, and so she had determined. 
Yet so powerful were the forces of malic-e within her, 
that no later than an hour after she had matured this 
discreet resolution, the temptation, arising from the 
contiguity of Naomi and Jonas and herself within ear- 
shot of the hammock, had overcome her. But her suc- 
cess had proved to be her undoing. Jonas, hesitating 
between doubt, and fear, and hope, and hampered by 
natural timidity and dread of ridicule, was far different 
from Jonas in the full flush of the realization of his 
supremest desires. His self-confidence increased daily. 


A WOMAJV OF SOK£:a^. 


155 

He became bold, boisterous and boastful. Upon itself 
did his conceit feed, and grow fat. 

His passion became oppressive, and its manifesta- 
tions were singularly disagreeable and obnoxious to her. 
He was so strong, and he hurt her so in his rough 
lubberly embrace ! One would imagine that he was 
wrestling with a giant I Then his face grew so red, and 
his eyes bulged so from their sockets, and the pores of 
the skin, from which moisture exuded, were so coarse I 
His very joy was grotesque. He laughed aloud, and 
his tones were metallic and strident. He snapped his 
long, bony fingers like squibs ; and twisted his legs in 
and out of the rungs of his chair, and twined them 
together with the supernatural agility of a nervous con- 
tortionist. Moreover his conversation was most tire- 
some and opinionated, and as protracted as had been 
one of his fathers favorite sermons. While the excite- 
ment of mental fencing had continued, she had heeded 
it no more than an oarsman in a race does a sudden 
shower. But now that they had reached the dead level 
of successful courtship, with no ambush to suspect nor 
trap to avoid, his monotonous and interminable flow of 
platitudes overwhelmed her with a tidal wave of fatigue. 

Besides, Jonas had entered upon a new. phase of his 
existence, like a reckless mariner who slips his moor- 
ings, and ventures upon a trackless and unknown sea. 
When a coward struts as a hero, or a clown, as a gal- 
lant, the change is so radical that his actions must be 
strained and unnatural. So it proved with poor Jonas, 
He had always been ungainly, and had fully appreciated 
it. It had rendered him reserved and silent and unob- 
trusive. But now his rapture was so real and so ex- 
pansive, that he forgot his imperfections, and denied 
-that they had ever existed. He argued with himself 


A WOMAN OP SOPPN. 


154 

that a man must be attractive who could win so fail 
and so noble a prize as Marcia. But he had won her, 
therefore he must possess fascinations hitherto unsus- 
pected. Assurance, however, did not lend him grace ; 
but, like gauds upon a blackamoor, only accentuated 
his uncomeliness. 

It was on the day after the solemn plighting of their 
vows, that Marcia, having endured for an hour a homily 
setting forth with chronological exactitude, the argu- 
ments that irrefutably established the fact that his church 
was the only gate to heaven, believing that any digres- 
sion would be welcome, and that excitement alone 
could dispel drowsiness, abruptly changed the tenor of 
his thoughts, by glancing into his eyes, with mingled 
modesty and candor, and saying: “What would you 
do, dearie, if after painful prayer and self-examination, 

I should become convinced that I was not the proper 
wife for such a strong and worthy man as you ? I am 
so young and inexperienced, and the position is so 
exalted. What would you do, if I frankly told you 
this?” 

Jonas grew pale, then crimson, and then pale again ; 
like a human chameleon, of double hue, confronted by 
an unexpected danger. He trembled like the jungle 
before a tornado, and distress forced the tears from his 
eyes. His vociferations arose like the shouts of the 
Muezzins. She was his God ! Should she forsake him, 
he must perish in despair ! For her he would do any- 
thing ! His faith could remove mountains ! Come, 
let him know what she demanded ! Was the prospect 
of the life of a clergyman s wife irksome to her ? The 
little vine-clad parsonage should sink in the slough of 
oblivion. Did his religion stifle her ? Fudge ! It 
should disappear like breath upon a frosty morning ; 


A IVOMAN OF SOKEA\ 


155 

and together they would tear into tatters his priestly 
coat and formal tie. Did she long for the pleasure that 
lay beyond their limited environments ? He would sell 
his worldly goods, and they would roam at her sweet 
will, until they had drained the last glittering drop from 
the chalice of gayety. She should never wed another, 
he vowed it ! He must be the man that she desired, 
no matter what manner of man he might be, for such 
he would become ! He would kill anyone that dared 
to look upon her ! He would rend him, as did Sam- 
son, the lion 1 He would kill himself and in her pres- 
ence ; and his blood should cry out against her heart- 
lessness ! 

In the thraldom of his passion, he rolled upon the 
floor, and tore his hair, and clicked his teeth, and 
moaned like a wounded wolf in its lair. Then contri- 
tion swept over him, and he wept anew. She was his 
angel, his guardian angel, the essence of light and of 
holiness! He loved her so, oh, he loved her so, that 
memory and conscience and manhood were absorbed 
and obliterated I She had realized heaven, she had in- 
tensified hell for him 1 He was crazed by fond desires. 
But she was as serene and as passionless as was the 
Mother of God, when she received the adulation of the 
Wise Men. She must restrain him, and urge him on in 
his life work, and keep him steadfast to his faith. And 
he crept upon the carpet to her feet, and anointed them 
with his kisses ; and, clinging to her knees, laid his 
head down upon them, sobbing like a little child. 

Marcia shrank back in her chair, speechless with 
terror. What spirit of darkness had her folly evoked. 
She recalled the poor fisherman in the Arabian tale who 
had released the genius from his confinement of ages in 
the urn ; and how terrible to him had been the conse- 


A IVOMAM OF SOFEJC. 


156 

qiiences. She remembered Frankenstein, and realized 
that, like him, she had created a monster, indifferent to 
reason and beyond control. She thought of Faust and 
his fearful fate ; and she wished, as these doomed men 
had wished, that she had not tampered with the un- 
known. Bitterly did she regret her lack of deliberation, 
that quality which protects the counsellors of tyrants. 
Bitterly did she regret her cousin s death. Would that 
she were alive, she would gladly surrender him to her, 
and make clean riddance of him. But she had crossed 
her Rubicon, that river of fate, and, as is the lot of all 
poor mortals, she must press forward nor glance back- 
ward, lest her next step should find no sure footing. 
So she caressed and soothed him with the balm of 
affection, assuring him that her doubt had only arisen 
from her earnest desire to perform her entire duty, and 
from her humility and sense of unworthiness. And he 
listened with pampered ears, rolling the sweet flatteries 
about in his memory, as precious morsels for future 
digestion ; and sought his lonely apartments, no longer 
lonely since her gracious presence haunted them, satu- 
rated with contentment, and with delight. 

When Marcia, the calm and the composed Marcia, 
whose lines had ever fallen in pleasant places, awoke that 
night in the solitude of her room, and watched through 
her window the scurrying clouds drown the stars, and 
felt the timbers quake before the onset of the gale which 
had rushed from the sea-board, she trembled before an 
overshadowing darkness whose gaunt outlines assumed 
a resemblance to Jonas, and for the first time appre- 
ciated her own meagreness and impotency in compari- 
son with the mighty mysteries which spring from 
nature’s womb. So, like the prisoner to whom the 
privileges of the court-yard are granted, she eagerly 


A WOAIAJV OF SORER'. 


157 

availed herself of the opportunity for reflection which 
death, the arbitrator of many a difficulty, afforded. 

Jonas was happy in the meantime ; but his happi- 
ness knew no rest. His mind was concentrated upon 
Marcia. He wondered what she was doing-, and 
whether she was thinking of him and longing for his 
caresses. He no longer attended his lectures, nor pur- 
sued his course of reading. He walked almost inces- 
santly, and his comrades encountered him in the most 
unexpected places ; but he passed them by without rec- 
ognition, muttering and mouthing unintelligible ex- 
clamations. He was absorbed and enchanted. Like 
the opium slave, the enjoyments of his existence were 
contained within one object Sincerity had torn away 
his artificial coverings of furtive dissimulation and hy- 
pocrisy with which he had for so many years warmed 
his complacency. Now, like a naked gladiator in his 
captor's arena, he stood forth, fierce, virile and desper- 
ate. Life had exhibited its greatest prize, and had an- 
nounced that he was the winner. Woe betide the one 
that dared to dispute his title ! He had gained the 
highest summit, and had viewed the land of promise, 
and he would curse God and die, before he would, like 
Moses, retrace his steps and wander again. 

He revelled in his remembrance of her charms, nor 
did this remembrance simply comprise her serene and 
holy expression ; but it included those adornments with 
which nature had beautified her sex. And these con- 
templations aroused within him that jealousy which 
realizes the source of its existence. He envied the 
stars, that peeping through the latticed windows of her 
apartment, watched her toilet. • He envied the humble 
flowers upon which she trod, and the scarf that em- 
braced her neck. Yet he knew that she was as sinless 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC, 


158 

and as unconscious of sin, as was Eve at her birth 
while Adam still slept Love had transformed him, and 
it had not made him a better man. It had shattered 
his faith, or at least his belief that he had a faith. The 
natural man had overcome the spiritual man, and he 
remained Jonas the theological student, the calm, the 
thoughtful, the mystical and devout, only because he 
believed that this was the Jonas whom she loved The 
force of early training, of precept and godly example, 
of study and research, had all yielded and faded away. 
One influence alone bound him to that future of holy 
living, and that was that it seemed to be beautiful and 
desirable to her. Apart from her he had no religion. 
His worship was merged in her. Nor did his denial of 
his God affect him half so much as did the thought that 
his nature was so base as to degrade her ineffable 
chastity by the sensuous vagaries of his imagination. 
Still he was happy, when he did not disturb himself 
with self-analysis ; only his happiness was restless, and 
as sensitive to his moods, as is the aneroid, to the cloud 
and to the sunshine. 

So engrossed was his attention, that when he received 
from Mrs. Clenton the little note which Naomi had held 
tightly clasped within her dead hand, he did not at- 
tempt to open it, much to her mother’s disappointment ; 
for she had striven to do so, and had only desisted from 
breaking the seal through fear of detection. Nor did he 
examine it when he returned to his room, but threw it 
carelessly upon the shelf, where it lay as neglected and 
forgotten as was the one who had written it. 

It was the day after the funeral, that Jonas was walk- 
ing along the shady river path, every foot of which 
aroused tender recollections within him. He had of 
course attended the ceremony, that most forlorn manj- 


A IVOMAAt OF SOREA^, 


159 

festation of rural paucity of resource, and had been im- 
pressed, deeply impressed, not by the look of candor 
and of peace that enrayed with glory the snowy coun- 
tenance within the cheap and tawdry casket ; but with 
the divine resignation that shone from Marcia s face, 
when, after the solemn words of the benediction had 
fallen like celestial dew upon it, the lid, whose clasp 
ever re-echoes despair, had been closed forever. She 
had raised her head, which had been lowered by sorrow, 
to glance towards the stricken widow whose hand she 
held and comforted ; and a ray of light, stealing through 
an opening caused by the fluttering of the curtain, 
burnished her red-gold hair with the radiance of an 
autumnal sunset She seemed to be in an ecstasy ; as 
if she too had escaped from earth’s confines, and was 
communing with the cousin whom she had so dearly 
loved. Such an expression revealed her soul, as the 
genius of the old masters, exalted by fastings, has given 
to the Virgin at her Assumption, or to the Mother in the 
agony of her sorrows. Now, while he walked, that 
seraphic expression haunted him. He felt that he had 
seen an angel ; and he wondered whether the spirits of 
evil in the darker world dared to equal the sacrilegious 
audacity of his fantasy. 

Where he now stood the bank rose high above the 
river, as if nature had reared a dike against the im- 
petuosity of spring. But the fever of summer had 
wasted the waters ; and they flowed sluggishly over 
the rocks where once they had dashed in cascade ; and 
a white streak of sandy beach at its base showed how 
feeble they had become. Upon this lolled several of 
the boys engaged in the most gentlemanly and refined 
art and pastime of fishing ; but engaged after their own 
peculiar fashion, without regard for the ethics of the 


1 6o ^ WOMAAT OF SOREK, 

gentle Walton. Half way between him and them there 
thickly grew, in a natural canopy, vigorous sprigs of 
willow and of alders which sufficiently screened Jonas 
from observation ; while by pressing them aside, he 
was able to watch them, and to overhear their conver- 
sation. 

Now one of the reasons why Jonas was so un- 
popular with the boys, was that he was shrewdly sus- 
pected by them of carrying tales to the faculty to their 
detriment. Certain it was that that august body pos- 
sessed invisible and unknown means of detecting many 
things that occurred beyond the sight and the ken of 
any of its members. And Jonas was an especial friend 
and associate of Tutor Stanson, who of all his ilk was 
most despised and feared. He had the eye of a lynx, 
and the stealth and the cunning of a sleuth hound. At 
the faculty meetings he usually arrogated to himself the 
proud position of public prosecutor ; and he gloated over 
his victims with the righteous glee of a Grand Inquisitor. 
He was wary and strategic ; and the unexpected ques- 
tion, indicating the wisdom of a wizard, which he 
would, W'hen matters seemed to be shaping towards an 
amicable conclusion, without warning unerringly launch 
at the devoted head of the poor culprit, generally pro- 
duced a paralysis of confusion and discomfiture. Now 
the boys knew that all who fought beneath Agamem- 
non’s standards were Greeks to the Trojans ; and they 
did not wrong Jonas by their distrust Many were the 
hints, and surmises, and deductions, gleaned by his un- 
obtrusive scrutiny and attentive ear, that he and the 
Tutor had forged into proof against them. He regarded 
himself, from his position, as a natural and proper con- 
servator of good order and rule. Besides he hated them 
for their boisterousness and uncouth happiness ; and 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


l6l 

his soul warmed within him with satisfaction, when he 
learned of a suspension or an expulsion of which he 
was the secret promoter. It was such a proper revenge 
for all of the jests and jeers which he endured, strength- 
ened as it was by the conviction of duty well per- 
formed. 

So, with the noiselessness of a spinster kneeling 
before a keyhole, he leaned over the edge of the bank, 
sustaining himself by the branches with one hand, and 
gazed upon the unsuspecting group beneath him. They 
were undoubtedly enjoying themselves. Fishing evi- 
dently was not the sole source, but merely a concomitant 
of their pleasure. That intentness which marks the 
true sportsman was not apparent ; for they were stretched 
upon the ground in the easiest postures which were 
possible, and were smoking, actually smoking. There 
could be no dispute over this ; for since the tobacco 
was strong and common, and indigenous to the soil, and 
the pipes were old and discolored, the offence was 
rank and smelt to heaven. Now the use of the weed 
was a high misdemeanor at Armway, a fact that lent to 
it a still more enchanting aroma ; and counter-blasts 
had been promulgated against it as powerful as that 
which alone gives personality and memory to a king. 
Jonas thoroughly understood how great an infraction 
this was of the penal code ; and his eyes glistened with 
gratification as he recognized the offenders as among 
those who had been the most persistent of his tormentors, 
the particular friends and cronies of George Dome. 
Regardless of imperiling their piscatorial pursuits, and 
unconscious of the spy within their camp, the boys 
were laughing and chatting heartily and loudly. 

“ Q. O, O, O, O, O, — I hear that Will Mason has 
gone to town to visit his 0,0, 0,0, uncle, 0,0,0, 0, over 


i 62 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


Sunday,” . spasmodically ejaculated Jack Keator, who 
was universally termed “ O, O,” Keator, owing to a 
slight impediment in his speech which caused him to 
involuntarily intersperse his conversation with these in- 
terjections of wonder and surprise. 

“Right you are, ‘O, O,’ ” returned little Bobby Kelly 
as he re-baited his hook with the tempting angle worm 
which he had taken from the depths of his pocket, 
“You see he got his brother to write a letter to Prex 
from his father asking that he might be allowed the 
privilege of passing the Sabbath with his maternal uncle ; 
and Prexy most graciously assented; for he has a high 
idea of old man Mason who has been in the legislature 
for several terms, and has never been accused of bribery. 
So Will meets his brother to night, and I guess that they 
will see all the uncles and aunts in Boston.” 

“O, O, O, O, he’s a sooner.” 

“You bet he is. I wonder if George will be lonely 
in that little low log cabin in the dell without him } ” 

“What a fool you are, Bobby,” interrupted Ralph 
Davis, who being one of the older boys spoke like one 
having authority. “ Don’t you know that George has 
been just crazy to get him away for a night or two. 
Don’t you understand George by this time ? There 
never was such a fellow, with such luck. Talk about 
*Tom Jones,’ why he was a regular sissy beside him. 
I wish to goodness I were he. He’ll not find the soli- 
tude too intense ; you can just bet on that.” 

“ She is so innocent and charming,” sang little 
“Bobby,” as he cocked one eye with the wink of an 
imp. 

“ O, O, O, O, O, Holy Mo-o-o-o-ses I’ve got a bite,’' 
shouted “O, O,” almost bursting in his endeavors to 
communicate this astounding event ; and amid the ex- 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


163 

citement attending the successful capture 01 the fish 
which must have been deaf, and blind, and decrepit, to 
have blundered upon the hook, the conversation tem- 
porarily ceased. 

Jonas quietly and quickly withdrew. He had heard 
all that he wished to hear. A just Providence had de- 
livered over his enemy into his grasp. “Surely a good 
man always receives his reward,'’ he thought. George 
Dome, the one who had treated him with the greatest 
contumely, the one whom he feared and envied and 
hated above all breathing mortals, was about to commit 
the most dreadful offence within crime’s catalogue, a 
sin not to be mentioned among people of piety, and be- 
yond all hope of scholastic pardon ; and it lay within 
his power, without exposing his own agency, to bring 
the miscreant to judgment. Truly the way of the trans- 
gressor is hard ! A great joy filled him to overflowing. 
At last his virtue had received the recognition which it 
had so long deserved ! His love was successful ; his just 
resentment victorious. His chest expanded ; and his 
shadow showed him how haughtily he carried his head. 
Conscious power intoxicated him. That pride in himself 
which had sprung full-grown from Marcia’s adulation 
gained renewed vigor. How mighty he had become, 
as valiant and as conspicuous as was Saul among 
Israel’s host ! He determined that there should be no 
chance of George escaping detection. He, himself, the 
man of God, would in the holy cause of justice haunt 
the vicinage of the cottage, and with his own eyes 
would behold the dreadful iniquity. 


A WOMAN OF SOEEJC, 


164 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The evening was as calm and as beatific as is the 
glance of the young mother upon her first-born who 
cuddles within her bosom, and laughs into her face with 
the unreasoning assurance of instinct. Like the star of 
Bethlehem it promised peace and good-will. The sun 
had sunk without any bitterness, and its farewell had lost 
all masculinity. For its latest rays, grazing the very tops 
of the hills, touched the earth which lay basking in its 
smile, with as timid a caress as that which Psyche be- 
stowed, when she, for the first and the last time, beheld 
the matchless loveliness of her divine lover. The soft dew 
imperceptibly descended, oppressing neither the tiniest 
blade of grass, nor the leaf of rose ; yet toning and enrich- 
ing the balmy breath that attended its progress, which 
the Mountain had exhaled like a sigh of relief and thanks- 
giving for the retreat of the glare of the day, and the 
coming of night with her enveloping cloak of darkness 
and of rest. The west trembled and blushed. The sky 
shook away the fleecy mantle of downy clouds that had 
half hidden its charms ; and, bedecked with brilliants 
of fadeless and unwavering light, shone in naked splen- 
dor. The dreamy twilight slowly paced its melancholy 
way, accompanied by the murmured cadences of minor 
chords, and by those thoughts that lie too deep for tears. 

Jonas left his room, and mechanically strolled to wards 


A WOMAN- OF SORE A'. 


165 


the house of Mrs. Clenton. He longed to see Marcia^ 
though he knew that he could remain with her for only 
a brief period. He distrusted the gifts of the gods ; like 
one, who, possessing a magical wishing-cap, still fears 
lest its virtues may depart. His nervous hesitation had 
been so strong before that eventful day when fortune had 
extended her arms and had enclosed him between her 
breasts, that despite the vigor of his pride, and the exul- 
tation of his conceit, he at times imagined that he dreamt ; 
and though reason dissuaded him, still he shuddered at 
the thought of how terrible and disheartening would be 
such an awakening. He doubted the veracity of occur- 
rences ; and while he longed to believe, he struggled 
not to do so. Thus his success became a scourge to 
him ; as is his untold gold a source of constant appre- 
hension to the miser. This mood oppressed him, when- 
ever they had been absent from each other for the space 
of a day ; for her presence, like a dram to an habitual 
drunkard, was the only stimulant that could retain and 
render permanent his supreme felicity. Like the Phari- 
see, he needed an outward sign to confirm his faith. 
He must have her picture, a lock of her hair, a button 
from her cloak, a glove which she had worn, something 
that partook of her, and of her individuality ; something 
that would tell him that she was his own, when she was 
far distant from him, when the light of her tenderness 
had faded away and the music of her voice had been 
hushed. 

So he sought her, and he met her strolling through the 
quiet precincts of the old-fashioned garden, with the 
calmness of mien and sedateness of step, that might 
characterize a young and beautiful Abbess enjoying the 
freshness of even-tide within the high-walled grounds of 
the convent. She was dressed in gray, and her apparel 


i66 


A WOMAA^ OF SOREIC. 


was simple, and clinging and devoid of ornamentation ; 
yet perfect in outline and fashion. Her bonnet and her 
gloves were of the same demure hue. She resembled a 
Puritan maiden, the fairest and chastest flower that ever 
blossomed upon rugged soil, faultless in form, faultless 
in character, gentle and resolute and true, ignorant of 
fear, and unknowing shame. A rare type, that hardship 
created, and that luxury has destroyed. He appeared 
abruptly before her, and startled her ;■ and it seemed to 
him for an instant that a shade of perplexity rested upon 
her brow. Yet it could not be ; for surprise betrays the 
emotions, and the earnestness of her greeting, after his 
first words, dissipated the thought. 

‘‘My darling, I can stay with you but a little,” he 
said. “I have a duty that calls me thither. Believe 
me that naught else but its sacred voice could summon 
me from celestial fellowship with you. Yet an instant 
with you exceeds in joy cycles of Paradise without you. ” 

“ I feel that you are all truth and sincerity, Jonas, and 
I trust in your love as I do in that which my father bears 
for me. I never knew my mother, though the dim 
memory of her fond face often grants enchantment to my 
dreams ; and in the singleness of your devotion I re- 
alize that the loss of my childhood is now being recom- 
pensed. It was only last night, that she seemed to me 
to be watching over us, and to smile her approval upon 
our union. I too have a duty to perform which would 
draw me from your side even if you could remain. For 
conscience should be the master of inclination. Think 
of my aunt, my poor bereaved aunt, unwittingly await- 
ing in her chair near the hearthstone, the light rapid step 
that will never again resound. I could not withstand 
her piteous though silent entreaty. I must fly to her, 
and comfort her with soothing words and holy readings 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EK, 167 

from those old books of devotion, which have ever been 
her nearest associates and friends.” 

How like a self-dedicated Daughter of God, purified 
by the fires of abnegation and sacrifice, she looked as 
she pensively uttered these words. A deep sense of 
demerit humbled Jonas ; and he kissed the tips of her 
fingers with reverent respect. 

You are so good, my love,” he replied, “ that it is 
a spiritual education to be with you. Still I will not 
detain you, for I too will be serving the right by hasten- 
ing you upon your mission. But before I leave you, 
there is one thing that you must do for your weak, fool- 
ish Jonas. When we are apart, dark doubts sorely 
beset me. I cannot help it I am so happy that my 
happiness seems unreal to me. I fear that it may van- 
ish like a mirage, and only the dun, barren sands re- 
main. I am like unto that King of Israel, whom moods 
enthralled ; and your presence is the only Psalm that 
can woo my melancholy. Yet, since in the heavens to 
which love has transported me there must be partings, 
give me something to hold me to you, some token, some 
guerdon of my knighthood ; for I am your knight, as 
you are my ladye faire.” 

‘ ‘ What a preposterous looking knight he would 
make,” thought Marcia, “ with his long, thin shanks 
rattling about in greaves, and the weight of his hel- 
met tugging at his throat, and turning him black 
in the face;” but she only said: “What shall it 
be.? You have my all, my affection. Would you bind 
it to your arm with my kerchief? You men are alike, 
victory loses its sweetness unless the enemy’s flags are 
captured and trailed in the dust, within the sight of 
all.” 

“Nay, ” replied Jonas ; “ by me your name has never 


i68 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


been spoken. I have no parents, no kin. Nor have I 
friend, who is near enough to my own self, to share my 
thoughts regarding you. Only to my heart have I 
sounded your praises, and only by it have they been 
re-echoed. At such time as you may indicate, I will 
present my addresses to either your aunt or your father ; 
but until then, as far as it rests with me, our love will 
remain as secret, as it is holy. 

Marcia breathed a faint sigh of relief, which Jonas 
fondly imagined to be a tribute of suppressed passion. 
Events were closing so thickly about her, that she had 
feared that common report might forge another link in 
her chains. But now, since his tongue had not wag- 
ged in its gladness, there was no danger of this ; for his 
attentions had not been sufficiently demonstrative to, of 
themselves, occasion public remark. 

“ I will give to you anything that I have, ” she con- 
tinued. “ I have no picture of myself ; besides I detest 
all likenesses, they are so cold and expressionless, they 
eliminate the soul, and render permanent, in the fea- 
tures, the thought that may at the moment of their exe- 
cution have been affecting them, even though it be so 
ridiculous a one, as the dread of one’s back-hair falling 
down. No, I care not for them. It is the light of the 
eye changing instantaneously, the ripple of the lips, 
and the curves of the face, reflecting intelligent sympa- 
thy, that are the attributes of our dear ones which we 
recognize and love, and these cannot be counterfeited. ” 

“That is most true. Any portrait of you, though 
Apelles himself guided the pencil, must be a slur and a 
caricature. Yet imperfect though it be, would it not 
serve to refresh and re-inspire the memory ; as the rev- 
elations of the sacred word display the glories of the 
celestial city to the parched and perishing pilgrim. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


169 

But I care not now what it is. I must have something 
next to my heart that partakes of you. Bestow one of 
these gloves upon me. It has nestled within the soft 
couch of your hand. It has been pressed to your 
cheek, and to your bosom. The delicate lines, into 
which it has been shaped, and the faint breath of vio- 
lets that clings to it will remind me of you ; and I will 
know that she, whose instincts are so truly vestal as are 
thine, could never have granted anything even so 
slightly connected with her personality as this poor 
glove, save to him who held within the grasp of him- 
self, her unfaltering regard.” 

“Take it, then, and may it impart a sense of the 
faithfulness to you of the hand it contained, and the 
knowledge that I am unalterably thine. And now my 
dearest, the waning light warns me that I must depart. 
May thy rest be as peaceful as is the descent of the 
evening ; and thus I say to you good-night.” 

“Good-night,” responded Jonas, “for all things are 
good, even the darkness, since thou art mine, and I am 
thine. But shake off thy leaden soles, O, time, and 
hasten blessed day that will extirpate all partings and 
glow with the rosy light of continuous companion- 
ship ! ” 

He kissed her upon the brow, upon the lips ; he care- 
fully folded the little glove, and placed it within his 
breast ; and with a sigh that seemed to weight the skies 
with its ponderousness, he strode away, like one who 
leaves the warmth of home, to face the winter’s blasts. 
She stood for the moment gazing after his figure as it 
cut and dove through the gloom. “Poor fool,” she 
murmured, with a disdainful shrug of her shoulders. 
“The rosy light of continuous companionship will 
nover equal th^ dull glimn^er of your solitary student 


A WOMAN OF SOREX, 


170 

lamp ! My weak, foolish Jonas ! How I hate and 
despise you, and yet how I fear you 1 " She stood for 
an instant longer, as motionless as is the Sphinx in her 
reverie by the Nile ; then she passed her hand across 
her eyes as if to brush away the visual embodiment of 
a painful thought, and went into the house. 

Jonas walked slowly up the hill, and seated himself 
upon one of the benches that had been placed here and 
there within the grounds of the Seminary. He knew 
that his self-appointed task could not be commenced 
for several hours, and the beauties of the night enticed 
him away from his room. The poetical and romantic 
words of his mistress entranced him ; and he longed to 
be alone, and to repeat them again and again in his 
thoughts, and to carve them deep upon the tablet which 
memory had reared to his vanity. Right truly had she 
said that no portrait could justly represent her ; for she 
was endowed with the changing fascinations of the 
opal. How noble was her character, of what grave 
tenderness and exalted intellectuality ! She walked the 
earth like a goddess, and her speech was fashioned with 
divine lips. Yet this creature of benign grace and 
majesty was his hand-maiden, his willing captive, 
chained by the golden links of affection to his chariot 
wheels. How wonderful it was, and yet how natural ! 
How fortunate was he, and yet how blessed was her 
lot ! Verily their union would be the blending of two 
harmonious chords ! 

The moon had arisen, and in the ripened glory of 
maturity had shamed the modest stars into hiding. No 
cloud crossed her pathway, nor dimmed her fulgor. The 
fields were bathed in her silvery radiance, and the little 
river reflected her course in a thousand sparkling lines 
of white. The hills disclosed the grandeur of their out- 


A IVOAfA AT OF SOFFA\ 


171 

lines and the shadows of their glades ; and the mists, 
that had settled upon the meadows, were transformed 
into that wondrous fleece, which Jason and his Ar- 
gonauts, in the days when fables were facts, snatched 
from the dragon at Colchis. ‘‘So may my life be,” ex- 
claimed Jonas, “bright, but not dazzling; serene and 
beautiful and beneficent, and as cloudless as is thy 
journeying, O moon ! ” 

A languor, a forgetfulness stole over him, begotten 
by her mystic rays and the wooing coolness of the night 
wind He did not slumber ; but sleep hovered so near 
that the soporific sway of its breathing seduced him into 
stupor. The scene faded from before his gaze, and 
then reappeared. The moon still floated in the match- 
less azure, and no danger threatened her confident ad' 
vance ; but from the spur of the dread Mountain, whose 
sullen obscurity scorned the coy trifling of her beams, 
there shot a dense, gigantic cloud of murky gloom 
elongated in shape, and from its extremity lengthening 
into branches of sooty horror, like fingers upon the 
hand of a demon. It rapidly sped towards the moon, 
so fair, so unconscious of her fate, it surrounded her, 
and extinguished her, and blotted and consumed her 
light from the sky. Then an awful blackness settled 
upon the face of the earth ; and that blackness was the 
unilluminable night of despair. For ages it seemed to 
crush upon him ; yet suddenly it was swept away, as 
though some spirit had commanded, and again he was 
walking by the base of the Mountain. Again thd dis- 
cordant cries of the crows rang in his ears ; again he 
heard the creaking of the bough ; again he saw the 
grewsome spectre of violent death with its grin and 
gesture of terrible significance ; and again he felt the 
clammy sweep of that unspeakable, abominable thing 


A WOMAN OF SOFEJC, 


172 

against his cheek. Oh, God I Could he never escape 
the remembrance of that scene. With a moan that was 
pregnant with trepidation and anguish, he sprang to his 
feet, and spread wide apart his eyelids, like one who 
had been startled from his repose by a piercing shriek. 

Pshaw ! It was but a foolish dream after all ! There 
was the moon as triumphantly reigning as ever did 
Diana reign over the glens and the fountains of the for- 
est ! There were the fields still aglow with her rays 
undimmed by the faintest cloud 1 There was the old 
Mountain, sleeping in its grave seclusion, stern and 
frowning undoubtedly ; but still sleeping ! It was but 
the kiss of the dew upon his face that had so diverted 
his roving thoughts ! Despair had not settled upon the 
earth ; but light and gladness and love ! He slipped his 
hand within his coat, and brought forth the little folded 
gflove. The faint scent of violets aroused his senses 
with the potency of an elixir. Ah yes, his happiness 
was real ! He held it and possessed it and would de- 
fend it forever ! All of these dismal visions were but 
spectres, inane and purposeless, adduced by the stillness 
of the night, and the cramped position in which he had 
been reclining ! 

The clear sound of the village bell, striking the hour 
of ten, was wafted from the old wooden steeple in the 
valley below, to his ears, like the resonant tones of a 
sentinel calling the watches of the night. He trembled 
and shivered, and his knees knocked together as he 
started to fulfil his plans. He was chilled by the ex- 
posure of his long waiting, and his spirit too was chilled 
by the imagery of his dreams. He could not shake off 
the feeling of despondency, and the consciousness of 
impending evil which encompassed him. Encourage 
himself as much as he could, with thoughts of Marcia, 


A IVOMAN OF MOFFAT. 


ns 


with assurances of her love, with the actual contact of 
her glove ; yet that same darkness of despair still op- 
pressed him. He summoned to his aid the forces of his 
conceit, the remembrance of the words with which she 
had sped him upon his way rejoicing, the sweetness of 
her kiss that still remained fresh with his lips ; but even 
these, in conjunction with the talisman whose magical 
powers he had himself invoked, seemed to be unable to 
reassure him. 

He did not, however, desist from his purpose which 
belief made a righteous, and animosity, an agreeable 
task. As he strolled down the hill and through the vil- 
lage street, his steps resounded with the solemn echo 
of solitude. No home-star of comfort shone from the 
houses shrouded in their own shadows, with windows 
thrown open to the early rest which the soft evening 
breezes bore to the weary toilers within. He thought 
again of his long dreary boyhood, how monotonous and 
how doleful it had been. From the beginning he had 
been alone, forced to seek companionship in himself, 
and to derive all interest in life from his own existence. 
Alone he had been, and now it seemed that alone he al- 
ways would ba His future extended before him as 
desolate as was this silent street. Perhaps his nature 
demanded gloom and retirement, as certain plants 
thrive best when hidden from the sun. His union with 
one so bright, so cheerful and so gay, as was Marcia, 
would be as anomalous as the mating of an owl and a 
lark. 

And yet it was to be, his dejection must admit that ; 
she had plighted her troth in accents of maidenly sin- 
cerity, and her pledge lay against his heart. Come 
now, he would contend with himself, and marshal the 
facts that spoke in his favor. He was young and tall 


74 


A IVOMAjV OF SOkEA\ 


and well made, he was wealthy and his own master. 
Grave men of learning and devoutness applauded his 
character and ability. The town-folk had always 
treated him with the utmost deference, and he had often 
noticed the eyes of young girls turning inquiringly and 
sympathetically towards him. Why, there was Naomi, 
whose little grave upon the distant hillside he could 
now almost distinguish ; she surely had at one time re- 
garded him in a kindly light, before she had been con- 
taminated by constant contact with the boys. And she 
had been naturally foolish and fickle, and not at all 
likely to be appreciative of him. Yet he remembered 
that there had been a period before Marcia came, 
though it seemed so far distant as to be beyond recol- 
lection, when he and she had associated together suf- 
ficiently to provoke many a semi-clerical joke upon the 
subject from his fellows ; and he had in no wise sought 
the intimacy. Besides, had she not written to him, and 
held the dead note within her hand when she died, 
which he had in an incomprehensible disregard of duty 
and of the obligations of true gentleness, tossed aside 
unopened ! He would read it when he returned to his 
room, and perhaps its contents would give still greater 
reliance to him. Then, too, there remained the great 
unanswerable argument. Marcia was true, and she 
loved him. Was he so childish that the ordinary silence 
of night could conquer his reason ? Let him not forget, 
then, that the morrow would surely bring the bustle of 
business and the tread of hurried feet. He recalled the 
frowzy, ill-shapen, unsightly caricatures whom he had 
often met, plodding along the road with a wife and chil- 
dren submissively following. And yet they had ap- 
peared to be objects of love and respect to their own. 
Affection was not a result that invariably sprang from 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EK. 


175 


the same causes. It was a plant that flowered alike in 
the tropics, and under the frigid zones. So it must 
be that he, as well as any other man, and perhaps in 
excess of a great many whom he had admired and 
envied, possessed attractive qualities ; and that it was 
not only natural but almost inevitable, that he should 
be the object of her unshared devotion. 

He had been fortunate lately, that was certainly so. 
Here was this affair of George Dome, upon which he 
was now entering. How proud he would be when, 
with well-feigned sadness, he poured into the eager ears 
of Tutor Stanson the dreadful details of this iniquity ! 
How happy he would be when he heard the tramp, 
tramp, of the boys, as they marched to the depot to bid 
their favorite a long farewell ! He too would be present ; 
from the brow of the hill, that overhung the railroad 
cut, he would watch the train, which bore his tormentor 
forever away ; and he would bless every turn of the 
wheel and stroke of the piston. So his mind vacillated 
from one thought to another with unregulated rapidity, 
racked and upset by conflicting emotions to an extent 
which would have horrified the placid, dignified, un- 
pretentious Jonas, of a year ago, could he have then 
foreseen it 

He had reached the river and had turned upon its 
path. Oh. that dear, familiar walk ! Each fragment of 
its trodden sod was sacred, because she had stepped 
upon it with that fairy-slippered foot, which the daisies 
had striven to sustain. The breath of night upon the 
waters smote him with the chill of ice. He dashed for- 
ward pressing his arms closely against his sides to pre- 
vent the quivering of his whole body. And as he rushed 
along, he felt the brambles and the bushes cling to his 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC, 


176 

clothing, as if they would dissuade him from his pur- 
pose. But he heeded not their strivings ; though he 
afterwards remembered that they at least had seemed 
to be solicitous to befriend him. Through the trees 
glimmered a light from the front window of George’s 
little house, like a beacon hung upon a castle’s walls by 
a treacherous servitor within. A burning, craving, 
maddening impulse mastered Jonas. He knew not its 
source ; yet he recognized its power, and yielded to it. 
He would ferret and fathom the evil which concealed 
itself within these walls, even though he tore their tim- 
bers apart in his endeavor ! Like an Indian upon a 
trail, he darted from tree to tree, as though to escape a 
detection which the gloom gainsaid ; and he advanced 
upon tip of toe, as though the echo was conscious of 
his design, and would betray him. 

As he stole towards the side of the building*, he could 
see that the rear room was shrouded in darkness, and 
that the shutters were tightly closed upon the window. 
Like a serpent that God had forbade to face the sun, he 
threw himself upon his hands and knees, and slowly 
crept along until he was beneath its sill. He cut and 
tore his flesh against the broken bottles that had been 
, shattered upon the ground ; but in his absorbing excite- 
ment he heeded it not. Cautiously he raised his head 
to the level of the lintel, and listened. Surely there was 
some one within ! He heard the rough bass mutterings 
of George’s voice, like the distant battle of clouds with 
a mountain crag. He heard his loud, detestable, jeer- 
ing guffaw, like the sound of an artisan sharpening his 
saw, that had ever rasped upon his nerves and enraged 
him. And in responsive merriment, he heard a silvery 
lute-like laugh, the embodiment of a happy smile, thQ 


A WOMAN OF SOMEJ^. 


177 

ripple of a mountain cascade, the greeting of the lark to 
the dawn, and it shivered his heart as will poison, a 
Venetian glass. Had he become suddenly daft, and be- 
reft of all reason ? Was his judgment so warped, and 
his imagination so diseased, as to actually render him 
the victim of so sacrilegious a suspicion ? With the wary 
stealth of a tiger scenting blood, he wormed himself 
around the house until he reached the entrance. Then, 
with the caution of a country lad advancing with hat in 
hand towards a butterfly poised upon a mullein stalk, 
he raised himself inch by inch, and peered through the 
half open slats of the blinds upon the window of the 
front room. It was unoccupied, and there was a lighted 
student's lamp upon the table in its centre. With the 
quickness of a camera, his eyes grasped every detail of 
the interior as pictured to him by Marcia, during their 
first walk by the river ; the books, the memorabilia, the 
guns, and the fishing tackle. There, too, was the dreamy, 
old fashioned lounge, how capacious and comfortable 
it must be ! But what. Oh, God in Heaven ! What 
did he see carelessly thrown into one of its corners ! 
His eyes protruded, as though they would pierce the 
space and become convinced by actual contact The 
muscles of his face twitched and writhed as though the 
three Furies had seized upon him and were tearing him 
asunder. For there, in plain view, lay the dainty, gray 
bonnet which he had deemed a Puritan maiden might 
fittingly wear ; and by it, the little glove, whose mate, 
against his heart, now burned like a living coal. 

With clinched fists, the wretched Jonas beat his head 
again and again. The air grew crimson, as though 
filled with drops of blood ; his veins throbbed and 
pulsated beneath his temples like cables shaken by the 

iz 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


178 

blast of the tempest ; the room, the house, the sur- 
rounding trees revolved rapidly around him \ with the 
muffled roar of a slaughtered beast, he sank senseless 
upon the earth. How long he lay there he never thought, 
and he never knew. But it was the sound of voices in 
the apartment above him that finally aroused him ; and 
he awoke from the kindly stupor, alert, and keenly ap- 
preciative of the situation. They were about to leave 
the house, and he must hide, else he would be dis- 
covered by them, and they must, until he should deter- 
mine, remain in ignorance of his knowledge ! He 
sneaked down to the fence, and skulked behind the 
shrubbery. A broad band of light shot across the lawn. 
He saw them standing within the hallway. He heard 
the shutting of the door, and their footsteps upon the 
gravelled walk. As they approached, he could read the 
tenderness that mantled Marcia’s face, and the careless 
air of supremacy with which George strode beside her. 

wonder what the romantic Jonas is doing ” he 
heard her ask. ‘ ‘ He said that he had a duty to per- 
form, and it must have been a disagreeable one ; for his 
attempting it would make it so. But I imagine that by 
this time, he is feeding his poetic soul upon moon- 
beams, or soothing it by sweet dreams of love.” 

What ever he’s doing. I’ll fix him before I go to bed 
this night,” replied George. 

Their figures faded away like ghosts at cock-crow, as 
they continued down the road. Jonas again approached 
the house, and looked in through the window. Upon 
the floor near the lounge, lay the little gray glove. He 
entered, and took it, and wrapped it with the other ; and 
placing them both within his breast, retreated to the 
open air again. Then with the speed of the gale, like 
a spirit escaping from hell, he rushed across the fields. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


179 


over fences and stone walls, through the swamps, and 
the meadows still clad with the downy mists, up the 
steep hill and into the dark portals, never slackening, 
nor glancing to the right nor to the left, until he was 
locked within his lonely room. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


l8o 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Jonas gazed about him with the puzzled air of a 
stranger, when he entered the apartment where he had 
lived for so long a time. The lamp upon his desk was 
lighted, and its gentle heat had softened the chill which 
had followed the night. There was a store of periodicals 
and magazines neatly piled near by it ; there was a for- 
midable mass of manuscript carefully arranged within a 
broad wicker basket ; and upon table and chairs and 
shelves,were books, well thumbed, well used, yet looking 
very friendly and as though they were feeling very much 
at ease. There was a scholarly atmosphere about the old 
room, combined with that neatness and particularity 
which denotes the care of a spinster. Everything was 
so scrupulously clean and nice, and placed with such 
order and definiteness. The ample blotter upon the 
desk was spotless; and the big brass inkstand shone 
with the polish of its days of vanity within the shop 
window. Even the linen upon the bed, and the scarf 
upon the bureau was folded and adjusted with prim 
precision. For the sober bachelor is far more finical 
than his un wedded sister of equal age. Yet the easy- 
chair with its abundant cushions, the foot-rest stationed 
conveniently near, and flanked by widely spread and 
easily yielding slippers of a generous capacity, all 
extended a hearty welcome home to him. 

But it seemed to Jonas that these concomitants of cul- 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


l8l 

ture and comfort belonged to another existence, and 
were utterly foreign to the one that he was now endur- 
ing. He felt that the old past in which he had here 
lived, and slept, and read and mused, with the tran- 
quillity and freedom of a hermit, had been scorched 
and swept away by the consuming fires of a fatal pas- 
sion. Yet he had instinctively sought his room, as a 
wild beast seeks its lair, scenting danger in the air, and 
fleeing for a place of refuge. At first, no sensation 
thrilled him save the sense of safety from the onslaught of 
fate. He was like a hapless swimmer who had been 
caught in the mighty undertow, and had been beaten and 
buffeted by the waves, until, through happy chance, he 
had gained the kindly sands. Then a feeling of regret 
encompassed him that his swoon had not outlived 
time ; for he feared the approach of meditation. Were 
he only like the kine devoid of memory, that hateful 
gift of evil, he would so gladly stretch his limbs beside 
their warm and sleek bodies, and like them sleep with- 
out dreaming ; for he was so weary, and consciousness 
was so frightful. He appreciated, however, that rest 
would never again oppress his eyelids, unless he sur- 
rendered himself into eternal captivity. 

He stepped to the high antique shelf, and leaning his 
elbows upon it, peered into the mirror that hung above 
it. Who was the miserable wretch whose face was re- 
flected back to him with such ghastly vividness ? Who 
was this unkempt, dishevelled, dirty, pitiable object, with 
twitching and distorted countenance, with eyelids 
swollen and inflamed, and bitten lips from which the 
blood was slowly oozing? He looked upon himself 
with dismay. Where was the raiment which he had 
donned with such proper pride in its clerical cut ! The 
clothing, that hung in shreds about him, was slashed 


i 82 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


and torn by the broken glass and the pickets and bram- 
bles, and soiled and discolored with muck and with gore. 
He looked upon his hands, which he had always pre- 
served in the whiteness befitting benediction; they were 
blackened and bruised and bleeding. The high, closely 
setting vest was open and buttonless ; his gaiters and 
his decent hose were ruined with the mire ; his neck- 
wear and black-silk watch-guard were wrenched away. 
Upon the shelf there was a little portrait of himself taken 
when he had first entered the Arm way Seminary. He 
studied it with dull amazement. Where was the Jonas 
who beamed so placidly from its frame, the self-content, 
retiring Jonas, so dapper, so proper, so good ! Gone, 
forever gone ; as dead as were the hopes of those who 
had so painfully builded the tower of Babel ! 

As he dropped the picture with a despairing groan, he 
noticed the little missive from Naomi, which he had so 
cruelly neglected, and which now lay before him like a 
leaf shaken by a Sibyl from the tree of fate. He knew 
that a voice from the other world spoke unto him, and 
that whatever it communicated would be truth. With 
reluctant awe he looked upon it, dreading to touch it 
and to break the seal that death had stamped upon it; 
yet impelled by an irresistible impulse to learn its con- 
tents. Why had the last fleeting thoughts of this poor 
girl been concentrated upon him ! What had he been 
to her but a ribald jest ! . He recalled all of her cruel, 
heartless sayings which Marcia had repeated to him. 
Yes, Marcia alone had repeated them ; and he had been 
insensate enough to believe her ! Believe her ! he had 
trusted her far more than he had the Almighty ; for at her 
nod he would have said, there is no God ! But now be- 
lief was dead, belief in Marcia, belief in a protecting 
Deity. Why should he conjure up her false, malicious 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


183 

inventions? He would read the note ; for had he not 
been held by a spell more fatal than ever Circe or the 
Sirens wove with waving' hands, and transcendent har- 
monies, he would have read it when he had received it. 
How could he have been so heartless as to toss away 
with contempt, the message which the grave itself had 
spared ! 

He broke the seal, and held the paper to the light. 
Faint, trembling lines they were, penned by agony and 
extreme prostration ; yet distinct with a purpose that 
must be fulfilled. He slowly spelt out the letters. 
There was only a single word, “ Delilah.’' What could 
she mean, what significance could this convey? His 
dulled brain throbbed with the attempt to remember, 
and to decipher. Nothing could better exemplify the 
mental condition of the man, than his struggles to rec- 
ognize the purport of this name, as familiar to him in 
all of its relative connections as was his own. At 
length the light broke across his bewildered mind. He 
groaned, and sinking upon a settle, which he had always 
proudly considered to be a counterpart of those that 
were used by worshippers in old St. Paul’s at London, 
he hid his face within his hands in a convulsion of shame 
and of poignant regret 

Like a vision of heaven to a parched soul in the gulf 
below, the scenes of that eventful day so proudly passed 
were pictured before him. Again with trembling knees 
and uncertain voice he stood within the old pulpit, the 
first rostrum of many a famous divine, and read the 
story of Samson from the book of Judges. Again he 
falteringly repeated his text, “Her house is the way to 
hell, going down to the chambers of death.” Again he 
opened the sombrous leather case, in which he had so 
carefully arranged his precious manuscript, and uttered 


A WOMAN OF SOI^EK\ 


184 

the words of his exordium. Again the black letters 
darted hither and thither before his gaze, like renegade 
soldiers deserting their posts in time of danger, and 
breaking the ranks into confusion. Again memory re- 
fused to recall the well-conned sentences that were as 
familiar to him as were the lines of his mother s favorite 
hymn. Again he saw the expectant audience roll like an 
immense wave, and from a dizzy height threaten to over- 
•whelm him. Again he caught the steady light of confi- 
dence and encouragement which gleamed from the 
kindly, girlish face within the Clenton pew. And again 
he braced himself like a man who encounters lions upon 
his pathway, but who still advances with intrepidity 
upon his journey ; and addressing himself solely to her, 
speedily regained his self-possession. How silent was 
the great congregation as he boldly challenged evil with 
his ringing denunciations and fearless asseverations ! Not 
another sound could be heard save the rustle and flap- 
ping of the huge palm leaves, stirring the heavy air. 
And when the last page was reached, and the black 
cover announced to the sleepy little boys that the sea- 
son of their probation had nearly expired ; how thank- 
fully had he expressed, by his glance, the gratitude 
which he entertained towards her 1 

“A powerful sermon,” the old professor had said, 
when the exercises were over and they had slowly 
walked together in the direction of the Seminary, the 
retiring throng deferentially yielding precedence to them. 
‘•A sublime sermon I But how did so young a man as 
you gain such insight into temptations peculiar to the 
world.? The discussion of immorality would be far 
more seemly from ray lips. Besides, your denuncia- 
tions are alike too comprehensive and too general. 
Much must be forgiven of woman, for she suffers the 


A IVOMAN OF SOREK, 


185 

pangs of maternity. The lily in decay is repulsive and 
tarnished ; yet it is the fairest offering of earth to its 
God. I have lived for many years, and am now ap* 
proaching the valley of death without fear or repining. 
I have studied the intricacies of creeds, and have delved 
into the depths of doctrines ; and the conclusion of all 
my experience and research is that ‘the greatest of 
these is Charity.' " 

“My Master,” Jonas had replied, “women are as 
mysterious to me as is the interior of the Ark of the 
Covenant. They are inhabitants of a country that is 
foreign to my nativity. I have known but one, my 
mother; and she, through suffering and resignation, 
had become an angel. But my reading has convinced 
me that they are the enemies of our bodies and of our 
souls. Original sin has been preserved by them as an 
heir-loom, and the serpent's poison still rankles in their 
blood ; nor can it be expelled, except as in the one case 
of which I have spoken, by the exorcism of constant 
prayer. The admonitions of the old Fathers, voiced 
from their caves and huts in the wilderness, whither 
they had fled lest the song of the harlot might contami- 
nate their souls’ communion with God, rang through 
my ears as I wrote my discourse, and guided my pen. ” 

“Oh, fool ! Oh, doubly blinded fool, that I have been ! '' 
moaned Jonas as anguish recalled these scenes and words 
with all of that vividness with which the lightning flash 
can, if it lists, imprint the landscape upon the naked 
rock. He arose to his feet and staggered to his desk. 
He opened it, and took from it the copy of his first ser- 
mon, which he had so sacredly preserved and filed away 
with such righteous complacency ; as the priests of the 
order of Melchisedec perpetuated the precious roll of the 
Pentateuch. He read the indorsement, “Delivered 


A IVOMAN OP 


i86 

unto the glory of God, May i6th, i8 — and these words 
inscribed with the certainty of conviction underneath : 
“Mighty is truth, and it shall prevail.” Ah, what an 
ass he must have been then, yet now his ears were even 
longer ! 

The thought crept over his mind, whether it could be ’ 
that he was not the Jonas who, in such serene superior- 
ity, had indited these lines. He who had written them, 
must have possessed assurances of peace, and could 
this have been his perturbed and distracted self ? Had 
not a demon in the depths of sleep ousted that tranquil 
soul, and substituted in its stead one that had been con- 
demned to eternal restlessness? Yet the voice of the 
Psalmist instantly answered him at the involuntary 
summons of conscience : “I laid me down and slept : I 
awaked; for the Lord sustained me.” Or was it the 
fact that he, the present Jonas, had always been the 
real identity ; and that the sanctimonious figure of 
clerical conceit was but the offspring of hypocrisy and 
occasion ? He could not tell. He had not only failed 
to read the nature of others, but he could not translate 
the open pages of his own motives. “ Yet if so it be,” 
he murmured, as he nervously tossed the sheets of his 
manuscript, “ I myself will assert myself, before in the 
dust I lose myself.^’ 

As he turned them one upon the other, as an oracle 
might fold the parchment of his mystic scroll, by chance, 
that unworshipped power that wrecks dynasties, his eye 
rested upon this passage: “Oh, friend of my soul, 
twin brother of my hopes and inspirations, hearken to 
my voice which simply re-echoes the truth of all ages. 
Beware of the woman, who, with winsome words and 
gentle glances, shall steal away thy senses and stupefy 
thy spirit Her caresses will gladden but for the moment ; 


A IVOMAN OF SOREJC, 


187 

yet they will deaden thy spark of purity for eternity. 
Beware, I say unto thee ! Suspect the woman who 
dwells in the valley of Sorek, suspect Delilah under the 
most charming and innocent disguise ; for her iniquity 
will be veiled before thee ! Earth^s flowers are most 
fair ; but they are nevertheless of the earth, earthy ! For 
thee, the stars shine in the calm effulgence of holiness ! 
The universe is thine heritage. Waste it not to gratify 
the cravings of base appetite ; for through chastity alone 
shalt thou read the book of the night’’ 

And again he read these words : “ Yet since it is not 
good that man should be alone, and since the divine 
economy contemplates that the people shall multiply 
upon the face of the earth ; seek thee a helpmeet, a 
damsel discreet and virtuous, bred among the godly, 
and taught to follow the paths of righteousness. Let no 
meretricious adornments entice thee, nor the lust for the 
flesh that the worms shall eat. And if haply thou shalt 
discover the maid-servant of God, the child — ” He 
flung the pages from him in the intensity of compunc- 
tion and remorse. Oh, blind leader of the blind, how 
his very words mocked him ! Had the dead girl loved 
him, and had he disdained her love } Had he refused 
the gem, and seized upon the bauble ? Had her clear 
eyes detected her cousin’s infirmities, and his mad in- 
fatuation ; and even as the guardian angels were in 
pity bearing her tenderly away, had she spoken to him 
his own solemn warnings .? Ah, indeed he had met his 
Delilah ; and a poor, weak, shorn Samson he had 
proven himself to be ! If he had only read the note and 
reflected upon it, when it was delivered to him, he 
might have been saved, though through great suffering ; 
but now, the iron had entered into his soul ! He was 
shorn of his strength of niind. He was shorn of his 


i88 


A WOMAN OF SOJ^EK, 


hope, his confidence and his faith. Weak or strong as 
these aspirations may have been, and he could not now 
tell whether they had been real or unreal, sincere or 
false, yet they had in a certain form existed, and had 
comforted him, and now they were gone. What re- 
mained in their stead .? 

He was conscious of a mighty yearning and of a 
fierce desire. Bright eyes danced before him, soft, 
curly locks entwined his neck, and his cheek was fanned 
by perfumed breath. His unrestrained imagination 
pictured a vision of loveliness, of that flesh which he 
had consigned to the worms, but whose embrace it now 
seemed would render the joys of Heaven inane and 
vague. All of the wonders of physical charms exposed 
themselves to him, and whispered : Here alone is 
thy happiness.” He remembered the inscription, which 
the Romans, with blunt and concise frankness, had 
placed upon the lintels of their Lupernals, “ Hie est 
voluptas ; ” and he now believed that they had written 
truly. 

‘^Oh, if I could but hold her within my bosom,” he 
cried, as he spread wide his arms to the disappointing 
air that delivered unto him not even the ghost of her 
whom he desired. Then memory would sweeten 
hell for all eternity ! ” Yes, love still remained for him ! 
Not the discreet maiden with carefully pinned kerchief, 
and demurely pursed lips, and folded hands, before 
whom he had reverently kneeled, and within whom he 
had not dared to believe that the warm blood of youth 
had ever coursed ; but the Amor of the ancients, naked, 
shameless, smiling, most fair and most happy. This 
was the love that had so often scandalized his reading, 
and disturbed his contemplation of the etymology of the 
classics. Yes, Aphrodite still existed and should be 


A WOMAN OF SORE A. 


189 

worshipped ! She was no chimera begotten of sickly 
sentimentalism ; but a sentient fact. Ruthlessly had he 
been taught her cult ; and he would take full advantage 
of his initiation. 

Crash went the window ; and over fell the lamp ; as a 
large stone was violently hurled through it, and across 
the room, smashing against a rare etching of St. Jerome, 
which hung upon the opposite wall, and irretrievably 
ruining the veritable likeness of the holy man. The 
scattered oil blazed upon the table, and upon the floor ; 
and it was with the utmost difficulty, and only through 
encountering many smarting burns, that Jonas succeeded 
in smothering the threatening conflagration. When he 
had done so, and had procured the feeble light of the 
candles that were the outposts of the mantel in the ante- 
chamber, a scene of desolation met his distracted gaze. 
The desk, so primly arranged with its papers and manu- 
script and books, was a mass of sooty dirt and ash. 
The floor, so scrupulously clean, was strewn with 
broken glass, and stained with oil. The lamp, which 
had presided for so long a time over his studies and had 
attended upon his meditations, lay twisted and distorted, 
like a dead coal upon a ruined hearth. The rancid odor 
of kerosene, and the sickening fumes of smouldering 
wool vitiated the air. 

Jonas flung open the window, and looked out into 
the night. The moon rode the zenith as proudly as 
an eastern queen upon her white charger rides at the 
head of her victorious troop. Her mellow light trans- 
formed the hour into a sunless noon. The Seminary 
wall responded but a single ray to her greeting, and that 
issued from his own apartment. All of the students 
were wrapped in the placid slumbers that reward the 
righteous, save himself ; and upon him that sweet sleep 


90 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK, 


would never again descend. Down the hill, towards 
the village, he saw a figure rapidly moving ; its shadow 
gigantically striding through the adjacent fields. The 
stillness of the night wafted to him the faint refrain of a 
merry song : 


We’ll kick him, we’ll trounce him, we’ll tear off his clothes, 
For he’s only a Theologue, whom nobody knows.” 


And then the echo of that mocking laugh, whose 
taunting tones had so often riven his heart 

** This is what he meant when he said that he would 
fix me,” muttered Jonas, as he slammed down the sash, 
with an energy that caused the fragments of the pane to 
ring crisply upon the pavement below, and stared about 
his room in a frenzy of rage. Now, besides all else, he 
had lost the home, in which he had taken such pride 
and such comfort ! Well, so let it be ! He would bury 
the past in the ruin of everything which contained a 
memory of it ! He tore his manuscript, and scattered 
the scraps far and wide. He ripped the costly bindings 
from his books, and mangled their pages. He dashed 
his pictures from the walls, those hallowed saints and 
sorrowing Madonnas that had been shrines for his 
aesthetic taste. He hurled a sketch of his father’s house, 
that bleak, barren, unhappy parsonage, whose influence 
had toned and swayed his life, beneath his feet, and 
trampled upon it. He ground into powder under his 
heel, his mother s watch ; at whose brightness his baby 
fingers had picked, and whose value had seemed to be 
incalculable to his boyish mind. And when his passion 
abated, and he sank in exhaustion upon the settle, the 
well-ordered study, whose quiet refinement had greeted 
him that evening when he had returned, presented a 


^ tVOA/AA^ OF SO/^£A\ 


191 

Scene of wanton destruction, that only the senseless fury 
of a wild beast, or of a madman could have produced. 

Yes, there was still another mighty emotion left to 
him, and that was hatred. Hatred, intense, fiery, un- 
wavering hatred, that would pursue its object to death, 
and wreck its unquenched vengeance upon the grave, 
that boundary line of animosity. Hatred, that filled his 
veins with an infernal pride and exultation, and nerved 
his arm, and clinched his fists, and swelled his muscles 
into knots of iron. And accompanying it, too, was its 
twin brother, jealousy ; that insidious fiend who battens 
upon that which he consumes, and whose breath is more 
scorching than are the fumes which arise from moulten 
lead. Ah, indeed, life was not yet depleted, since it 
still contained such compensating forces ! 

He again considered himself as he had been before 
this fatal day had dawned, rich and cultured and refined, 
a man to whom all respect was paid, the honored fol- 
lower of a holy profession. He thought of the uncouth, 
ignorant boy, as incapable of reflection and true tender- 
ness as were the swine, moved only by fleshly desires, 
an inert- mass of clay, a brute, whose endowment of 
reason scarcely surpassed instinct ; and he contrasted 
his own desolate misery, with his careless happiness. 
Could woe be more poignant ! Welcome any calamity, 
any catastrophe, any crime that would change and in- 
interrupt its omnipotence ! So, torn by three foul pas- 
sions, lust, hatred, and jealousy, throughout the long 
watches of the night, with glaring eyes and fixed gaze 
he faced the spectres of his future, and hailed with 
delight their hideousness. 

He contemplated life, and its snares and deceits and 
selfish longings, its useless struggles for impossible 
attainments, its bickerings and back-bitings and mean- 


A tVOMAN OF SOREK, 


192 

nesses and formalisms, its shams, and its counterfeits of 
honor and piety, its false friends and its false prophets ; 
and he realized that in this supremacy of pretense and 
dissimulation, he had at least attained those feelings 
which are genuine and natural since they animate the 
beasts of the field. And what indeed was man, but an 
animal that ambition had rendered dissatisfied ! Strip 
him of his artificial trappings, turn him adrift into the 
wilderness, and even the hyena and the jackal would 
shrink from him with shame and contempt ! What was 
his existence, which he vaunted as being but a little 
lower than that of the angels, but a cowardly battling 
with remorseless fate, and an unceasing endeavor to 
force others into the van of the universal sweep towards 
the gaping grave ! 

He thought too of death, and it seemed to him, as 
Florida had seemed to stout Ponce de Leon, to be a 
land of perpetual health and youth, because it was a 
land of inertia and oblivion. Why should one fear the 
entrance into its territory? Within it peace reigned. 
No cankering care disturbed, no troublous joy excited. 
The rest of visionless sleep prevailed. He mused upon 
the countless millions who had played their insignifi- 
cant parts in that tragedy which was never withdrawn, 
and had then left the boards forever. Had they been 
of sufficient importance to merit any reward except for- 
getfulness? What was the earth but a vast charnel 
house, and why should he fear evil within it ? The im- 
partiality and absoluteness of death robbed it of its ter- 
ror. Was he more timorous than smiling infant, or 
tender maiden or tottering octogenarian? Upon all 
sides, dissolution surrounded him. The air that he 
breathed, the ground upon which he walked, the food 
which he ate, were all permeated with the relics of poor 


A IVOMAAT OF SOREK, 


m 


mortality. Let him but drain to depletion, those pas- 
sions which rioted within him, and like the poor beast, 
worn out by the monotonous labors of the tread-mill, 
he would welcome, as he would a Saviour, the eternal 
cessation from knowledge and from toil. No nightmare 
of pre-natal horror had ever disturbed his slumbers ; his 
quaking of spirit had ever arisen from events that had 
happened upon the broad orb of the earth, and had 
commenced when he had first appreciated the repulsive 
fact of his being upon it. Certainly one bound of life 
was as calm as is a windless sea ; why should not the 
other be the same ! What torture could exceed that 
which he was now enduring ! Agony is not illimitable. 
It cannot surpass a certain strain : and that he had 
reached. Even the Inquisition could only impose so 
many torments ; and then its foul resources were ex- 
pended. Moreover, how calmly sleep the dead ! It 
was in the transient slumbers that the limbs twitched, 
the eyes rolled, and the hands clutched in terror and 
distress. Death knew none of these, its repose exceeded 
the calm of mountains. Its visions, if visions it pos- 
sessed, like the circling waves which follow a plunge, 
would soon ripple and dwindle into nothingness. 

He reviewed the harsh, cruel doctrines in which he 
had so firmly believed. It was because he had deemed 
himself to be one of the elect, that he had done so with 
such indifference. Now that he faced eternity with a 
heart that was black with evil desires, he appreciated 
its awful significance. Eternity, an unending cycle of 
cycles ! What series of unmentionable crimes, cover- 
ing every instant of three score years and ten, could 
justly deserve the punishment that, in his creed, with- 
out hesitation, and with all of the confidence that an 
axiom inspires, he had meted to each one of a multitude 


A tVOMAAT OF SOJ^FA'. 


194 

as numberless as are the stars. He remembered his 
conversation with Marcia regarding baptism. Yes, he 
had even condemned to everlasting fires, little innocent 
children, whom hungry wolves would spare ; whose 
future, if future there was, must be most serene, since 
for them the past had no regrets. And it was his re- 
ligion that maintained such monstrous and anomalous 
inconsistencies, more vindictive than the brain of a 
Mahomet could conjure. What possible comfort could 
it now afford him ? He would spew it from his mouth, 
and would believe, as he perceived with his sight, 
which certainly should be more reliable than some in- 
definite sensation called faith, that death produced de- 
cay, and that decay was the end of all things ! 

So his disordered thoughts rushed and roared and 
contended together, like molten metals warring within 
the swelling bosom of a volcano. The village bell 
tolled the fleeting hours ; but its voice instilled no lesson 
of forgiveness by its solemn warnings of the brevity of 
time. He looked out upon the slumbering world ; but 
no compassion for poor humanity stirred his breast. 
Nor did he think of the tender children nestling closer 
to each mother’s bosom in vague fear of the darkness, nor 
of the weary men, who were deemed to be most power- 
ful, yet whose strength, a little toil could so speedily 
squander. The morning light silently and softly stole 
over the hills, as if nature feared lest her wards should 
too quickly arouse ; but the marvel of its plan and con- 
stant execution touched him not with venerating adora- 
tion. He heeded not the song of the lark ; nor knew 
that unreflecting life, in twig, in plant, and in flower 
was shaming him by its homage. The east, the myste- 
rious east, towards which mankind instinctively turns as 
towards the gates of Heaven, was aglow with radiance ; 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC. 


195 


but in its wondrous hues he read no promise of eternal 
glory. A two-fold purpose was doggedly evolving in 
the obscurity of his brain, impelled by the forces of his 
natural self. Within this purpose was fused all of his 
ambition, all of his intellect and all of his future. He 
waited but the hour, and hailed the morning as the 
herald of its approach. When the bells had tolled for 
prayers, and hurried steps were heard hastening to lec- 
ture and to recitation, then, like a savage animal driven 
by hunger in search of prey, he sprang from his room. 
The door closed behind him, like the fall of a curtain 
forever ending an act of his life. 




196 


A WOMAN OF i>OREK. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Marcia enjoyed the freshness of the crisp, morning 
air, the shimmer of the sunshine, and the glitter of the 
dew upon the foliage. She delighted to walk by the 
river bank in the early hours of the day, and to in- 
hale the luscious blending of the chill of the night 
and the fervent heat of the noon. Her appreciation 
of pleasure was most keen ; but it was simply and 
purely a physical attribute, and recognized no con- 
dition that was incorporeal. She loved nature, as she 
loved her foster mother, because she had ever been 
kind and generous and indulgent to her. Every breath, 
which she drew from the alembic of creation, deepened 
and strengthened her life ; and this was most precious 
to her. Health was the talisman- that had rendered her 
happy, and most carefully did she preserved! ; while 
exercise was a prophylactic upon which she confidently 
relied. Besides the beauties of the landscape charmed 
her ; for they reminded her of herself. She was most 
devout in her worship of her God ; but her God was 
Marcia Clenton. The deep blue of the sky refiected for 
her the cerulean splendor of her glance. The trill of the 
birds recalled the silvery chimes of her voice. The 
vigorous saplings, tall and straight and overflowing 
with vital juices, resembled her own glorious body, 
through which she felt the surge of her blood so power- 
fully pulsating. A stroll thus became the pious sacrifice 


A tVOMAN OF SOJ^SA^. 


197 

of the rarest unguents of vanity upon the shrine of her 
deity. The earth was her heritage and her native 
home ‘ and, as she passed down the country road 
which the village exalted to the dignity of a street, she 
appeared to be as beautiful and as soulless as were those 
tutelary divinities who had danced upon the sunbeams 
and dwelt within the hollows of the oak, and haunted 
the cataract’s foam, in the pristine maturity of the world, 
when her womb was most fecund. 

She seemed like unto the subject of Solomon’s Songs 
to old Farmer Filkins as he watched her from the corner 
of the lane ; and to be far more bewitching than either 
Esther or Bathsheba, whose portraits lent a fleshly tone 
to his family Bible. He knew her full well, for he often 
sold to her aunt, the “truck” which he did not deem 
to be sufficiently fresh to send to the city. So he reined 
up his horses, and awaited her approach. “ Gol, she’d 
liven a corpse, she would,” he muttered to himself as he 
felt his cheeks grow hot beneath their grimy tan, and 
sun-faded whiskers. Most cordially she wished him a 
“ good morning ; ” for the lowly often pay the richest 
tributes of adulation, and rare ointments are transmuted 
from the vilest grease. 

“Which way be ye goin’ ? I jist hitched up the 
farm wagon to go to the old wood lot, will ye hev’ a 
lift ! ” 

“ No, thank you, you are very kind as you always 
are, but I need the stimulating exertion of walking, so 
that I may have a proper appetite for the goodies which 
you provide. Besides the healthful fatigue which arises 
after swimming through this delicious air, intensifies 
the joys of living.” 

“ I don’t know nothin’ about swimmin’ in air,” re- 
plied the farmer. “ I guess settin’ is good enough for 


A IVOA/AA^ OF SORE K\ 


198 

me when I git a chance, which haint bin often these 
parst sixty year ; but p’r’aps you’ll be through with your 
bath when I kim back, and then I’ll pick ye up.” And 
with a smack of his lips which disclosed the fact that 
his few remaining teeth were equally discolored, he 
drove away. 

Marcia walked on, until she reached the rustic bench 
overlooking the river, where she had so often sat with 
Jonas ; and there she rested. The spot possessed a 
fascination for her. It aided her memory in recalling 
the incidents of her triumphs, and like a veteran she 
found the zest of her victories to lie in retrospection and 
in repetition. It tickled her egotism to review the wiles 
and the strategies which she had so skilfully laid for the 
devoted Jonas, and upon the very scene of the conflict 
she could most readily do so. 

Yet to-day a cloud of annoyance dimmed the serenity 
of her complacency ; for she more clearly than ever 
before perceived that matters had reached a climax, 
and that from being interesting they had become alarm- 
ing. Like the journey into Hades of which Virgil 
sung, and which she had heard the boys discuss, the 
descent had been very easy and alluring ; but the re- 
turn, the retracing of her steps — that was a difficult prob- 
lem. Like the child, who in his eager pursuit of the 
bird that he had wounded with his arrow, strays in the 
forest and wakes from the excitement of the successful 
chase to discover that he is involved within masses of 
thickets and crowding trees ; so she, the eager fray of 
the struggle having died away and captivity having 
been led captive, now found herself to be lost in a be- 
wildering maze of fear and hesitation. 

'‘Since I am so well versed in Biblical lore,” she 
soliloquized “and have been blessed by the advan- 


A IVOMAN OF SOFFA'. 


199 


tages that can be derived from so righteous a preceptor, 

I will follow out his holy teachings. ‘ I will arise and 
go to my father and sa/ — well, what is the wisest utter- 
ance that I can make ? Let me see.” She paused reflec- 
tively, pressing one finger upon another as if conning 
a count, and with thought wrinkling her placid brow 
she slowly continued : 

“I will say, ‘Father, I have been annoyed beyond 
endurance, else I would not interrupt the steady flow of 
your occupation, by a crazy Theological student who 
persists in the delusion that I love him, although I have 
barely spoken to him. He has worried me with his im- 
portunities ; he has dogged my steps, and rendered 
fruitless my good aunt’s kindly endeavors for my com- 
fort and entertainment ; he has even ventured to insult 
me, me, your daughter, whose knowledge of men has 
been limited by my affection for your own dear self.’ 
Then I imagine the law and the gospel will meet in 
bloody contention, and the latter will be speedily 
worsted ; for papa’s little girl is so good, so innocent, 
and so ignorant of all of the guile of this wicked, wicked 
world that his indignation will be mighty because it 
will be just.” And Marcia laughed heartily and long, 
and as tunefully as breaks the echo of the hunter’s horn 
against the Alpine crags. 

But her mirth suddenly ceased like the song of a 
frightened bird that feels the mystic charm of a serpent 
overcoming it, for the shrubbery was abruptly parted 
and Jonas stood before her. She started to her feet and 
in unfeigned anxiety and all sincerity exclaimed: “In 
the name of God, Jonas, what has happened to you ! ” 

No wonder was it that this young girl was so amazed 
and dumfounded. The night had increased and ac- 
centuated his woeful appearance. His clothing was 


200 


A WOMAN OF SOREIC, 


still torn and ragged, and spotted and dabbled with 
filth and with coagulated gore. No priestly tie lent dig- 
nity to his garb, nor decorous hat of generous brim 
shadowed him with its sedateness. His dishevelled hair 
in elfin locks tossed in the wind like the snaky ringlets 
of the Medusa, and his fixed eyes glittered with the 
fierce and constant expression of a vampire. From the 
tips of his fingers the black blood had oozed, wrung 
from its channels by the clutch of anguish. His face 
reflected the horrid pallor of death ; save the dark lines 
of suffering that crossed it, and the twin sparks of fire 
that burned on either cheek. Marcia felt her limbs 
tremble and her heart beat wildly within her bosom ; 
that placid bosom, whose billows had never before been 
agitated by trepidation. She cowered before him for an 
instant ; as cowers the thief, when he unexpectedly 
feels the unyielding grip of justice fasten upon him. 
Something fearful was about to occur, she knew it, she 
knew it ; oh, if that dear, delightful farmer would only 
make haste and return ! Yet straightway she nerved 
herself like one who, confident in her virtue, undertakes 
the dread ordeal of walking unscathed over heated 
ploughshares. 

‘‘ This has happened,” said Jonas sternly, as he 
slowly drew from his pocket her glove and held it be- 
fore her. 

“ Why that is my glove which I gave to you as a 
token and a remembrance of my love ! Darling what 
do you mean } Are you ill ? ” 

For a reply, he silently produced its mate, and laid 
the one beside the other. Marcia’s perceptive powers 
were most acute. Her mind could grasp minutiae, and 
bind them together into a correct and truthful conclu- 
sion, She gasped, as if from want of breath, like one 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


201 


who suddenly receives a dash of cold water full in the 
face, and sank upon the bench hiding her face within 
her hands, but not so completely as to prevent her 
from intently studying him as he stood before her. And 
there he stood, as impressive in his sombre and silent 
accusation, as a mute displaying his mangled tongue in 
proof of the indignities which he had undergone. 
Marcia never hesitated at mendacity, except when she 
knew that it would be of no avail. Then, like an ex- 
perienced general, she did not believe in wasting her 
ammunition in producing smoke. She now appreciated 
that denial would not mislead Jonas, so she did not at- 
tempt to mollify him. Besides it was an ending to the matter, 
which but a moment since had been perplexing her ; 
and in this regard she felt a certain sense of relief. 
Therefore, since he had' played the spy upon her, she 
would punish him ; and the truth would be the cruelest 
penalty that could be inflicted. He could not harm her 
by repeating it ; for no one would heed his ravings, as 
his appearance alone belied his sanity. The spot was 
lonely, and he was manifestly desperate, and she was 
sorely afraid. Yet she counted upon the return of her 
friend the farmer, and resolutely cast her gauntlet at the 
feet of time, realizing that the force and bitterness of her 
words would at first stun and paralyze him. 

“We thought that we heard a moan,” she mockingly 
said, her eyes dancing with mischief, as she unveiled 
her face with the assurance of Phryne before her Jud- 
ges. “ But we did not mind it ; for it might have been 
the wind. And so it was you, you poor fellow, and 
did you cut yourself 1 ” 

“Oh, Marcia, Marcia, do not deride me! Do you’ 
not see how crazed I am ! What does it mean, and how 
gould you treat me so ! Have you no affection, no 


202 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


shame, no remorse ! Is your beautiful flesh the hardest 
marble ? Is that tender heart as obdurate as chalcedony ? 
Think how I have adored you ! You are grafted within 
the centre of my being, and I cannot tear you away/' 
He flung the gloves upon the ground and threw himself 
upon the bench by her side. 

But she drew herself scornfully away as she replied : 
“ Remorse ! Why should I entertain so shameful a feel- 
ing. That indicates detection, and I am as secure as is the 
moon when a hound bays. Did you really imagine 
that I loved you } Why, I was only playing with you ! 
The absurd talk of that childish Naomi about you piqued 
me when I first came to Arm way ; and I determined 
that I would prove to her that you were no different 
from other men, except of course that you were far more 
stupid and conceited. Do you suppose that I would 
have for one instant endured your tiresome and ridiculous 
proposal, and your loathsome and cubbish embrace, 
had she not been concealed where she must hear every 
word that you uttered } She really loved you, but you 
were too idiotic to perceive it. You killed her, and now 
you come and make fierce faces at me. Why you tran- 
scend Bluebeard ! Think for a moment ! Do I look like 
a girl who would willingly be shut up forever in a dreary 
country parsonage with you I might better far be im- 
mured in a convent. I require air and freedom, and 
youth and health, and all of the joys of this joyous old 
world. Go, leave me ! What you think that you know 
is but the idle figment of a diseased brain, the product of 
your ascetic and solitary existence. Forget it, lest, in- 
deed, you shall be deemed to be mad or drunk with folly. ” 
Marcia, all night long have I been thinking, thinking 
of you. Have pity upon me ! See my poor hands, 
how they have been bleeding, and think how my heart 


A WOMAN OF SO REN 


203 

has bled ! I care for naught else but you. Tell me that 
day is night, that the sun is dead, and that the stars do 
not shine, and I will believe you ! My past is gone, 
we will bury yours with it. I will do anything to please 
you. Anything to see the love-light again dazzle within 
your eyes, anything to again feel the soft velvet of 
your caresses. I will change myself. I will discard 
this ugly clerical chrysalis and become a butterfly, gay 
and giddy and youthful. People shall term me a beau, 
and a man of fashion, most fastidious in dress and in 
appointments. I will sell all that I have and give it to 
you, if you will only love me. Be my wife ! We will 
fly together to the sunny land of Italy, and, under a 
cloudless sky, we will revel in all of the pleasures that 
this earth can afford. I will be reckless and rakish and 
gallant. I will drink wine ; I will fight duels ; I will 
astonish all mankind by a thousand mad freaks. You 
shall have robes and jewels most costly and rare. 
Nobles shall kneel at your feet ; and kings render obeis- 
ance to you ; and I will smile to see them adore you. 
Never before, never again, while the walls of the world 
beat back the sea, shall woman be worshipped as I shall 
worship thee. Command me, I am thy slave ! ” 

He sank upon the ground and wildly strove to em- 
brace her knees. But she coldly turned from him, as a 
haughty dame might contemptuously avoid the worm 
that crawled in her pathway. 

‘‘ If you are my slave as you say you are, and by the 
way a more disreputable appearing one was never run 
down and captured by bloodhounds, I command you to 
leave me ! You weary me ! I never did like you ! You 
are distasteful to me ! Your love is fulsome ; your pas- 
sion is preposterous ; your presence is obnoxious and 
disgusting ! You, a beau, and a man of fashion ! You, 


204 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


fight duels, and drink wine, and play the gallant ? Oh, 
your folly surpasses mirth ! Did you never read the 
fable of the ass that masqueraded under the lion's skin ? 
Go, seek it and diligently cogitate upon it It possesses 
food for fruitful meditation. Fly with you to Italy ! Its 
skies would be leaden should I do so. Why should I 
choose an exile more dreary than Siberia. You have 
no power over me. I care more for the tip of the nail 
upon George Dome's little finger than I do for you ! " 

“Do not utter that name, that accursed name," 
shrieked Jonas, dashing upon his feet and madly gestic- 
ulating. “I must blot it from my memory ! It mad- 
dens me I It burns my vitals like vitriol ! I will forget, 
I will forgive everything. But come to me, if only for 
a short time ; if only for a month ; if only for a day. 
Then indeed will I obey your behests. I will banish 
myself forever ! I will kill myself! My life is ended ! 
It is a dream that has been dreamt I Yet a moment of 
such bliss would radiate its glory through eternity. I 
yearn for you, I need you. I crave you as did Dives 
the single drop of cold water. Be compassionate, if in- 
deed you hate me, veil your hatred as you did but 
yesterday. Since the day when I first met you, and 
assisted you, and held your dainty foot within my 
hand, I have been bewitched. The gentle warmth of 
that touch thrilled and affected my whole being like a 
philter." 

“I had not strained my ankle in the slightest degree. 

I only assumed that air of suffering as an excuse to en- 
tice you.” 

“But you were attracted to me, and you courted my 
acquaintance, oh, say that you did ! You do not know 
how that thought comforts me." 

“Yes, I was attracted to you, as a possible source of 


A tVOMAl\; OP SOREK. 


205 


amusement in this stupid country town. But you have 
disappointed my expectations, you have become tire- 
some.” 

While Marcia had apparently in perfect calmness 
taunted him, and had striven to divert his thoughts from 
herself to his own misery and degradation, she had been 
smothering a great fear within her heart. She was alone, 
in a secluded spot, with one who was insane through 
disappointment and mad desire. She hesitated at each 
step, dreading lest she might fall into a pit ; though 
reason told her that her influence, and her self-control, 
and her sharp, cutting words were her best defence. 
Moreover, even in her terror, the delight of tormenting 
him fascinated her ; and she could not resist the tempta- 
tion of watching anger and passion and distress contort 
and agitate his countenance. This impulse broke in upon 
her guard, in moments of her most skilful fencing. Be- 
sides her hatred, which had been passive, had now be- 
come active and aggressive. She longed to blast him 
with the fires of her wrath. He had covertly and sneak- 
ingly spied upon her and discovered her. He had con- 
fronted her with truth. He had endeavored to acquaint 
her with shame and remorse. Her nether nature was 
as hard as flint and as unyielding. It possessed the 
softness of the tiger’s paw ; but beneath it lay the sinewy 
muscles and the cruel sharp claws. Her strongest and 
most natural emotion was self-adoration. She belonged 
to herself. She cherished herself. She gratified her- 
self. This man was an aversion to herself. His words 
had humiliated and insulted her. She felt as though her 
matchless self had been exposed to a shower of soot ; 
and she inwardly vowed that sooner than permit the 
pollution of his embraces she would throw herself into 
the protecting arms of the smiling river. 


2o6 


A WOMAN OF SOFFN, 


As she had answered him, she had closely observed 
him ; and she could discern by the glitter of his eye 
and the increasing twitching of his fingers that he was 
rapidly losing all control, and that a crisis was approach- 
ing. Her ear was strained to catch the slightest rumble 
that might indicate the return of Farmer Filkins. Upon 
this return, her safety depended; and she determined to 
venture all upon this favorable cast of the lots. With 
breathless yet concealed anxiety, she awaited his words. 
They came, not as she expected with the blast of the 
blizzard, but with the sighing plaintiveness of a south- 
ern zephyr. 

believe now that Naomi loved me,’’ he said. 

‘‘Though it is beyond the range of my comprehen- 
sion to imagine how this could be so, she most assuredly 
did ; and she tried her best to warn you against my 
‘guiles,’ as she called them. The very day that she 
died, she sent for you to come to her side ; but I inter- 
cepted the message, and then whiled away the golden 
hours in a charming little picnic for tw'O. There was 
no one present but myself and that dear, delicious 
George Dome.” 

The storm broke. Jonas snarled with rage, like a 
wildcat worrying its prey; and advanced menacingly 
towards her. The faint echo of a sound that might be 
the murmur of the branches bending before the touch 
of the breeze, yet might be the rattle of that honest, old 
wagon, accosted her and nerved her spirit like a draught 
from the fountain of hope. She arose and steadfastly 
faced him. ” 

“You fiend, you devil, you beautiful angel of per- 
dition, ” he muttered ; as the thick crimson blood flushed 
and darkened his cheek: “Do you know what I 
planned throughout the long, dreary night } I nerved 


A WOMAN OF SOFEN. 


207 


myself to endure the detestable light of another day by 
maturing a twofold purpose which must, which shall 
be fulfilled. Though the gates of hell, if there can be any 
hell other than this execrable earth, yawn wide for me ; 
I shall possess you, and thus I shall be revenged ! I 
realize now that you hate me, that you always have 
hated me, that you always will hate me, and that there 
is nothing that I can do that can magnify your hatred. 
But still you are your lovely self! Your eye is still 
deeply and tenderly blue ; your cheek is softer than 
down, and more spotless than Afric’s costliest ivory, 
or the virgin snow upon an undiscovered peak of the 
Himalayas ; your hair is still a silky blaze of sunshine ; 
and your form is the envy of Venus. My darling, my 
darling, loathe me, detest me as you will, I love you 
and you are mine 1 ’’ 

Coward, and dull brute, and fool,” she cried, 
‘‘Sooner the sweet death which this babbling stream 
would caressingly grant 1 Sooner the awful release 
which the vilest, foulest, slimiest slough would grudg- 
ingly bestow I This, then, is my answer, as low and as 
disgusting as is thyself 1 ” She spat full in his face, and 
eluding his grasp with the swift and agile grace of a 
fawn, she darted lightly to the roadside. 

Yes, her lucky star was in its ascendency ; for she 
heard the nasal “Gee hup” of the farmer, the tug- 
like breathing of one of his steeds which was favored 
with the “heaves,” and the portentous rattle and bang 
of the decrepit wheels as they successfully surmounted 
the rocks which plentifully bestrewed the way. 

“Wall,” said he, as with a display of unnecessary 
strength and horsemanship he halted beside her: “Ye 
look as startled as a patridge. Be ye sick of yer 
swimmin’ and ready to be druv hum with me ? ” 


2o8 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


“Oh, yes,” sighed Marcia, as she quickly climbed 
upon the seat, and nestled against the rough, yellow, 
season-eaten coat, which adorned his massive frame ; 
causing his rugged, old heart to beat more rapidly than 
it had since that eventful day when he had stood with 
his Mirandy Ann between the folding doors of her 
father’s best rooms, and through the mists of embarrass- 
ment had faintly heard the Methodist Class Reader ex- 
patiate upon the beauties of matrimony as expounded 
in Holy Writ by the lives of Adam and Eve, Jacob and 
Rachel (the good man evidently regarded Leah as a 
needless encumbrance, for he spake not of her) and 
that everlasting couple Ruth and Boaz. 

“Indeed I have had sufficient exercise, and am so 
glad that you did not forget me. ” 

“ What paled ye so, ye look as if yer’dseeda speret.” 

Through the trees, Marcia could detect the white, set 
face of Jonas, and catch the fiery gleam of his eye, like 
the glint of an enemy’s spear. A faint smile of triumph 
toyed with her lips, as she replied : “I was frightened 
by the screechings of a loon.” 

“ Sartin they be skeery critters,” continued the farmer, 
and recklessly goading his sons of the wind, they drove 
away. 

Jonas ground his teeth with the impotent rage of a 
hyena, that the lion had driven from his prey. “I 
should have choked her,” he muttered, “And now it is 
too late.” 

He threw himself upon the bench and, resting his 
head upon his arm, in moody contemplation watched 
the flow of the crystal waters. She had threatened to 
cast herself upon their bosom, and she certainly would 
have executed the threat Why should he not do what 
she, a frail girl, would have dared to have done ! They 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


209 

seemed to be so cool, so refreshing, so alluring. How 
they would lave and fondle his fevered limbs, and what 
sweet dreams the music of their rhythm would evolve 
and sustain ! They would bear him away in all com- 
passion, and hide him from the taunting gaze of man, 
until he became reunited with kindly mother earth. 
Surely these thoughts begat no idle fears ! They 
awakened a temptation, whose impulse was almost ir- 
resistible. For he had been so accustomed to stroll upon 
the river s bank, and to follow its course with interest, 
that he now regarded it as his only friend. Perhaps it 
might sigh a requiem over him, and God knew that not 
even the tear of hypocrisy would be shed for him. The 
little insects that were busied upon the ground beneath 
him seemed to dwell in good fellowship ; all animate 
nature seemed to be paired as if existence was too terri- 
ble to be endured without sympathetic companionship ; 
but he, like Cain, was marked of men, and was alone. 
Like Cain — ^Ah, of what had he been thinking ! Had he 
forgotten his twofold purpose } In one particular he 
had failed, failed in the moment of his success ; but was 
there no joy save that of the flesh } The hot blood again 
boiled within him, as he recollected his other determina- 
tion. He stretched forth his arms, and found that they 
were mighty ; and he gloried in his strength. The vision 
ofbeauty faded from his mind's view, and within his ears 
constantly re-echoed that hateful, jeering, boyish laugh. 

Far across the fields he saw the Mountain ; but no 
longer did he feel its frown, nor dread its influence. A 
subtle charm now emanated from it ; and its rocks 
seemed to be as attractive and seductive as those which 
by their melody lure sailors to their doom. Its loneli- 
ness and massive power encouraged his soul, as though 
it were an exemplification of himself. In its profound 


210 


A WOMAN OF SOFEK. 


recesses he could effectually be concealed, and there 
rule absolutely and in peace. He formed no definite 
plan ; yet he well knew what would happen, though 
when, nor how, he could not foretell. The creaking of 
the bough no longer affrighted him ; it’s voice seemed 
to chant, with solemn harmony, the majesty and the 
victory of death. No more that spectre face with terror 
haunted him ; but a grim respect for its contempt of the 
world inspired him. 

With the undesigned caution and definiteness that 
often marks mania, he arose and unfastened his braces 
from his clothing. They were woven of silk, separate, 
strong and elastic. They had been sent to him at last 
Christmas-tide, by an unknown donor ; and he had often 
wondered who it was that had cared sufficiently for him 
to have prepared so pretty and so useful a gift. Now he 
remembered that a few days after he had received them, 
he had encountered Naomi ; and that, smiling and blush- 
ing in an incomprehensible manner, she had asked him 
whether he had received many presents ; and that he 
had curtly and absently answered “no.” 

Taking his large cambric handkerchieffrom his pocket, 
he joined the parts together with it, straining the knots 
across his knees. Then he bound this lashing around 
his waist, and casting a look of disdain towards the river, 
started down the road and disappeared within its wind- 
ings. 


A WOMAN OF SOREN, 


2lt 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The Academy bell had commenced its five minutes' 
task of summoning the classes to the recitations which 
began at eleven o'clock in the morning. Impelled by 
the stout arms of the enterprising and ambitious student, 
who, in this way, in conjunction with performing the 
painstaking task of serving the hungry horde that be- 
seiged the scanty table of the “Commons,” obtained 
the advantages of a classical education, it rang out mer- 
rily yet defiantly, as though challenging the daring to 
dispute its authority. But the clamor did not disturb a 
group of the boys who stood a little distance beyond the 
porch of the building, in the idle postures of soldiers re- 
lieved from duty ; for they had timed it too often not 
to know that the impulse of the last vigorous stroke up- 
on the rope would furnish them with an ample oppor- 
tunity to rush up the stairs before the activity of the 
clapper thus produced had exhausted itself. For the 
clapper seemed to strive to befriend them, and many 
were the marks that its last hesitating blow had avoided. 

They had gathered from the campus where tijey had 
been indulging in a practice game of base ball, during 
which the skill and prowess of Captain Dome had as- 
tonished even the most enthusiastic of his admirers. 
They were now eagerly discussing the glories of a won- 
derful double play in which he had signally distinguished 


212 


A WOMAA^ OF 


himself ; when he thus interrupted their laudations : 

“Say fellers, where did ‘Old-Squeeze-’em stiff' leave 
off last time ? ” 

This singularly inappropriate epithet, which George 
however employed with the confident pride of a Euphe- 
mist, was applied by him to a distinguished Greek 
scholar named Armstrong, whose erudition had blos- 
somed and flowered into a most successful and compre- 
hensive grammar that had become the recognized stand- 
ard in many a college, who had been honored with de- 
grees by universities, and with medals by learned so- 
cieties ; but to whom the necessity of nourishing a dozen 
“ greek roots " as he was wont to facetiously term them, 
with which Providence and his tender spouse had plent- 
eously endowed him, had assigned the ungracious task 
of sowing the seed of his knowledge and of his devotion 
upon what was, for the most part, indeed, barren ground. 
His nature was as simple, as limpid, and as pure, as 
was his own rhythmical scansion of the Iliad. He was 
free from guile and unsuspecting of deceit. His at- 
tachment to his profession was so single, that it was 
impossible for him to believe that others could regard 
the minute and painful dissection of the speech of the 
Hellenes with indifference and aversion. 

He thus often became an unwitting prey to the cunning 
of the unscrupulous. It was really pitiable to watch 
him at such times exhaust the entire hour, which might 
otherwise be fruitful of failure, in laboriously answering 
some cleverly contrived question relative to the dative 
of the definite article, or to the distinctions that individ- 
ualize the four particles which announce and usher the 
indirect discourse, that had been adroitly cast to him 
like a tub to a whale, by one whose strategy exceeded 
his knowledge. His interest pervaded his whole sys- 


A WOMAN OF SOREN. 


213 


tern. It agitated his legs, as if they were treading the 
mill of his thoughts ; it excited his hands into violent 
and irrelevant gesticulations ; and it caused his head to 
nod as did the august brow of Jove when he was well 
pleased. And it was only when the closing bell had 
sounded, and a low sigh of relief arose like that which 
greets an allowance of water to a parched crew, that he 
dimly suspected that perhaps his learning had been base- 
ly sacrificed to appease the fears of the ignorant 

‘ ‘ If you intend by that to ask with whom Prof. Arm- 
strong concluded his interrogatories yesterday, I will tell 
you,” said young Thomas Ely who was something of a 
precisian in dress and in speech, and who had led his 
class without a break since he had entered it, a little boy 
in knee-breeches, a full head shorter than any of his com- 
rades. 

“You've struck it right, my boy ; who was it ? ” 

“Bannard. ” 

“ Let me see, Bartlett, Bradford, Butts, Case, Cole, Con- 
verse, Davis, Dome, he'll skip every other one, in his 
foolish attempts at being tricky, and he'll strike me cer- 
tain. I'll make a dead flunk if I go in. '' 

“ O, O, O, O, O, O, we’ll get him started, O, O, O, O, 
on the probable site of Tro-o-o-o-y and he’ll be good for 
the O, O, O, hour,” stammered “O, O,” Keator, as he 
glanced from the literal translation which he had been 
rapidly conning. 

“Come off, 'O, O,' we haven't time to enjoy your 
spasmodic conversation, ''interrupted Bobby Kelly, shak- 
ing his head portentously. “Besides it won't do ; that old 
ferret of a Prex has smelt a rat. I heard them all mum- 
bling about it at the last faculty meeting, and he requested 
all of them generally, and Prof. Armstrong particularly, 
not to deliver lectures except upon e^tra days, \vhen. 


214 


A WOMAN OF SOREA\ 


he remarked, ‘those who love instruction, for instruc- 
tion’s sake may become satiated with it. ’ I was hid- 
den within the case of geological specimens and came 
mighty near lamming him with a chunk of rare, red 
sandstone ; but I was afraid his head might break it.” 

“Til cut it,” concluded George, “I can stand the mark 
and besides, I am tired and sleepy. I shall stretch myself 
upon the sacred precincts of the campus and have a sun 
bath and a doze at one and the same time. Like the well 
greaved Greeks, mine eyes are heavy with slumber, and 
I'd be well grieved if it wasn’t so ; for Lm happiest when 
I sleep,” and amid the scoffings and scornful ejaculations 
which this remark evoked, George escaped to his be- 
loved field. 

The bell hesitated in its ringing, as if it were wearied 
with its own clatter. It ceased, and its echo was stilled 
in the hollows of the hills. The familiar roll was called 
which each boy could repeat from either end to the other; 
and a smile chased from one to another as there was no 
response to the name of “ Dome ” ; and they thought how 
comfortable he must be in his heedless repose, kissed 
by the sunlight that seemed to fondle and nourish h'ls 
athletic frame, and fanned by the balmy breath of the 
breeze. Within the various rooms, the students faltered 
or chatted ; and the Tutors snarled or muttered, as their 
different dispositions induced them. Without in the open 
air, it was as silent as were the streets of Pompeii, before 
the mishap of a peasant discovered its sepulture. Not a 
footfall could be heard ; nor did a voice quicken the calm ; 
save the confused murmur that stole through the open 
windows of the Academy, like the drone of bees within a 
hive. In the fields, the husbandmen were intently toil- 
ing. In the kitchens and dairies, the matrons were hurry- 
ing and bustling. The great elms curved their branches 


A WOMAN OF SOFEK. 


215 

over the gravelled walk, and no one strolled in the grate- 
ful shade under their verdant canopy. 

Upon the campus, near the walk by the fence, lay the 
sleeping boy, wrapt in the sweet and tranquil slumbers 
of childhood. His hat had been carelessly tossed aside, 
and his head with its closely gathered curls was pillow- 
ed upon his arm. Again andanon the coquettish breeze 
would seize a shining lock and twine it upon its fingers. 
His lips were parted and disclosed his strong white 
teeth, matchless in symmetry and purity. A smile haunt- 
ed his mobile features, like the reflection of a pleas- 
ant thought Perhaps again he was triumphing at the 
bat or with the oar, and was receiving the plaudits 
of the eager throng. Perhaps he was returning home at 
the expiration of the long winter term. How excitedly 
he notes the familiar landmarks and dwellings which 
indicate his native town ; and how sluggishly the train 
hesitates in stopping ! How heartily his father welcomes 
him with slap upon the back and merry dig within 
his side ! How the servants crowd about him, and each 
one proudly captures and carries away some one of his be- 
longings ! How the old watch dog, whose sturdy back 
he used to mount in the far-away days of infancy, frisks 
and barks with delight and slobbers at his feet ! How 
the neighbors gather and express their amazement at his 
growth and improvement and evident wisdom ! His 
dreams whatever they were, were happy and innocent. 
No stealthy scheme invaded them. No plot perplexed 
them. No ambitions disturbed them. No envies em- 
bittered them. Perhaps his mother’s spirit hovered 
over him, and caressed his soul. His mother, who, 
from the moment of his birth, had unified and centred 
within him every impulse and affection of her heart ; 
who had straightway idolized him j and in the dancing 


2i6 


A WOMAN OF SORE A'. 


joys of his bright, baby eyes had found her heaven. So 
he slept as securely, as serenely, as the little child within 
the strong arms of a faithful family nurse ; or as the 
cattle under the shadowy trees, down by the brook whose 
babbling voice attunes a lullaby. So he slept, as sleeps 
the gull upon the bosom of the waters, ignorant of fear, 
unheeding the approach of the storm, trusting in the 
fostering care of nature. 

Through the Academy grounds, like a fiend lurking 
in Eden, shambled the rough ragged figure of a man, 
whose scowling visage was set with deep tense lines 
that denoted the energy of a controlling determination. 
He looked at the clock in the tower, that much gazed 
upon clock, whose pointers had moved so slowly and 
so quickly for so many zealous and reluctant boys. 
The minute hand marked the half hour. He listened to 
the hum of the recitations, like the monotonous whir of 
a distant mill ; and he knew that he had outstripped 
time. Like a marauder planning a burglary, like a 
scout disclosing a campaign, he sneaked with dragging 
steps around the building, and squatting himself behind 
the high fence in the rear, peered through the aperture 
which a gnarl had caused and waited. Ah, if that aveng- 
ing power that in the olden days of Coventry preserved 
from pollution Godiva’s chastity, had but again blasted 
and blinded ! But the gods no longer govern human 
affairs. The dagger falls, the arrow flies, the bullet 
speeds, as rage directs ; and no cloud conceals nor sud- 
den darkness shields ! 

It would have indeed been difficult for any of those 
auditors, who, had with such rapt attention and admira- 
tion, hearkened unto the words of Jonas upon that event- 
ful Sabbath morning, when he had so graphically de- 
picted the lessons and the warnings to be derived from 


A WOMAN OF SOFFA'. 


217 


the history of Delilah, to have now recognized him as he 
knelt within this ambush ; and their belief in the consol- 
ations which religion affords, would then have, possi- 
bly, been shaken had they done so ; but he it surely was, 
moody, resolute, and determined, racked and driven but 
by one motive, and that the burning desire for revenge. 

From his station he could espy every person who ap- 
proached or departed from the edifice. His eye photo- 
graphed each detail of the scene : the grounds, the 
village street, the park enclosing the Seminary, the 
Seminary itself, and the window of his room With its 
broken sash like the blot of a disgrace upon it. Far 
beyond, among the protecting trees, he could discern 
the cold white stones that indicated the ground where- 
in the dead of Armway were laid ; that unproductive 
field, whose title is held by Fate, within which the 
richest seed so speedily decays. He could distinguish 
the broken shaft, which Widow Clenton had so tenderly 
reared in loving memory of her better self; and he knew 
that near to it, unmarked, save by the rude mattock of 
the hireling, was the bleak and barren grave of her who, 
alone of all of the countless millions who throng the 
confines of the world, had held him in kindly and 
sincere regard. Turned to dust was that loving heart ! 
Wasted was its simple affection, as is the blithe song of 
a bird in the desert ! Scattered within the immensity of 
the universe were its warm and generous impulses ! 
Love had been for him; but it was not ! He had con- 
temned its offerings, and it had departed forever from 
him. Like the Israelites of old, he had sought and 
worshipped strange gods, and had been justly delivered 
into everlasting bondage. He was heated with rancor, 
he was disdainful, unrepentant and unrelenting. If a 
Supreme Being existed, he rendered hatred unto him 


2i8 


A WOMAN OP S0I^£A\ 


as the Author of wanton and unnecessary evil and the 
Creator of sin and suffering; but if that pure soul in- 
habited the realms of knowledge and beheld his anguish^ 
he believed that she pitied him, and most humbly did 
he crave her forgiveness. 

He looked upon the campus, and recollected the day 
when there she had so fortunately met him ; poor fool 
that he had been to have ever doubted her sympathy 
and candor after she had so nobly rescued him. Yes, 
there was the very path upon which he had ignorantly 
walked to his contumely. There was the stone that 
had so maliciously opposed his way and tripped his 
feet, and there — Oh, Christ 1 was so rare an opportunity 
vouchsafed him ! There, lying smothered in stupid 
slumber, unconscious, unprotected and alone, was he 
whom he yearned to encounter, his enemy, his rival, 
his destroyer ! He sprang upon his feet, and rubbed 
his eyes as if to make them more clear and positive for 
reassurance. It could not be, yet so it was ; they did 
not deceive him ! The Lord had delivered his adversary 
into his hands, and if like Samson he had been shorn 
and betrayed, like Samson too would he crush his foe 
within his dying grasp ! 

He thought of Judith ! How she had without com- 
punction or compassion slain Holofernes. He thought 
of Jael ! How she had relentlessly driven the nail into 
the temples of Sisera. How noble, how grand, how 
terrific were they ; and yet they were poor, weak, 
timorous women whose sex belied their strength ! 
Their names would live forever ; though they had 
basely betrayed the sleeping, and those who had con- 
fided in them. Still the Lord had prospered them ; for 
they were the instruments of the Almighty, and so in- 
deed was he. Had he not been led as by the hand of 


A IVOAIAN OF SOREK. 


219 

the IMost High, without will or purpose of his own to 
this very spot? Had not his eye, with unwonted and 
supernatural keenness, detected the identity of what to 
any one else in his stead must seem to be a mere shadow 
upon the field ? Was not this scoffer, this reviler of the 
holy and the righteous, more deserving of punishment, 
than the idle children who had mocked Elijah ? Was 
not he himself a more equal and proper champion of 
justice than two fierce bears with talons of steel ? Fire 
and the sword were the portion of the ungodly ; for so 
the Old Testament, that history of a chosen people, in- 
culcated. “ Slay and spare not ” had ever been the in- 
junction of Jehovah. 

His blood leaped and boiled within him, like 
the waters of the springs from the bosom of Ice- 
land. A fire consumed his vitals. His muscles twitched 
and knotted, as they had upon that day when he had 
pummelled the schoolmate who had so ill treated him. 
How glorious was revenge, the power to inflict condign 
retaliation. Love might repose in eternal slumbers upon 
the hill within God’s acre. The ashes of passion might 
smoulder beside the old seat by the river’s brink. But 
this force still existed, still thrilled and vivified him, 
and enraptured him with its embrace. Life was not a 
fatal and unhappy dream, bereft of all of its joys, since 
it permitted this ecstasy to encompass him. He drank 
great draughts of air in his wild exultation as if to con- 
centrate within himself the secret vigors of nature ; as 
did Antseos arise, renewed by the touch of mother earth. 
He cast one glance towards the distant hillside, fruitful 
in mortality, as if seeking her approval, and rushed 
over the campus, from which he had once been so igno- 
miniously driven, until he stood by the side of the rest- 
ing boy. 


220 


A WOMEN OF SOFEN, 


Yes, it was he ; for such deadly hatred never mistakes! 
How soundly, how peacefully, he slept ! How evenly 
his breast rose and fell, swept by no quivering emotion, 
nor torn by the rending fangs of passion ! He gazed 
upon his face, unlined by care or disappointment. How 
its tranquillity ridiculed the impotency of his spite ! Did 
that same deriding smile still linger upon the scornful 
lips ? He cautiously bent over and closely scrutinized 
the supine form. The flannel shirt was open at the 
throat, and revealed the white, maiden-like flesh upon 
his chest. Upon the swell of the neck, near the shoul- 
der, burned a bright red mark like the sting of an angry 
bee. Jonas could see no more. His rage overflowed. 
He seized the heavy stone, upon which the merry 
school-boys had so often poised in their sport like fal- 
cons on the wrist straining at the leash, and he balanced 
it high above him. Then with the furor of that elder 
brother, who in the morning of the world first affrighted 
nature with the shrinking horror which murder inspires ; 
like Cain when he rose up against the unoffending Abel ; 
with all of the fierceness and savagery that hatred and 
blighted love and corroding jealousy can germinate and 
foster ; with all of the unnatural strength that the one 
fell purpose of despair can, at the awful crisis of its cul- 
mination, recruit and rally from the mocking forces of 
evil ; he dashed it upon the head of the sleeping boy. 

No sound arose except the hollow percussion of that 
falling blow like the echo of the first clod breaking upon 
a coftin. The dream that had awakened into gladness 
the smiles of slumber, and had rendered happy the 
hours of rest with innocent sport, flew like a dove, ter- 
rified by the fierce swoop of the hawk, and fluttered 
into that secure nest, wherein the shadows of all things 
*hat are past forever gather and cuddle. That daring 


A IVOMAN OF SOKEK. 


22 


spirit again started upon an unknown adventure, but 
one, alas ! that would yield him no boasting return. 

Jonas remained transfixed, his arms still upraised, like 
one upon whom the Gorgon's head is unexpectedly 
turned. The instant that the rock, impelled by virulent 
and deadly energies, left his grasp, a revulsion swept 
over him with the rush and the might of Fondy s tide 
when the waters of the spring time swell and roar. Oh, 
if he could but recall its fatal force ! Inexpressible horror 
seized him, as he gazed upon the twitching members of 
his disfigured and mangled victim. Little spots of blood 
had dashed upon his face and hands, and there they 
burned like globules that had spattered from metals 
seething within a furnace. The voice of all nature 
seemed to sound against him a note of warning and 
abhorrence, more dreadful than the alarm that spreads 
before the approach of the were-wolf. “ Hence," it 
seemed to cry, “ Breath, shelter, sustenance, support 
is denied to thee, oh, most foul and cowardly murderer ! " 

The view became weirdly transformed. The blue of 
the heavens, the green of the sod and of the verdure, the 
silvery sparkle of the distant river, and the gray of the 
winding road were all changed into a dark, dull, mot- 
tled red, the horrible crimson of that sluggish stream 
which was stealthily creeping towards his feet. Gone 
was the mad transport of revenge, rooted and annihi- 
lated by terror and remorse. Oh God, what had he 
done, what had he done ! What tremendous nightmare 
had overpowered him ! Oh, that he might awake and 
dream no more, awake and find himself lying within 
his comfortable couch in his safe and peaceful apart- 
ment ! Yet well he knew that through some devilish 
device and cunning, reality, not vision, confronted him; 
well he knew that thi^ clammy, uncanny cadaver 


222 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


fore him was no translucent phantom. His flesh seemed 
to struggle to escape from himself, as though it loathed 
the crime in which it had been an involuntary accom- 
plice. The marrow of his bones grew cold, as though 
it were chilled with aversion and disgust. Where, oh 
where, could he hide himself to drive this abomination 
from his eyes, this quaking from his soul ! He longed to 
fly, as flies the quarry before the gliding goshawk ; yet 
a fascination which he despised and feared clogged his 
steps, and bound him to this scene of doom. 

. Had this prone and bleeding body subjugated him 
through forces far more potent and mystical than those 
that Mesmer evoked } He knew not, he reasoned not ; 
but his contemplation, against his will, against his trep- 
idation, became more and more absorbing and en- 
thralling. How majestic, how unconquerable was 
death ! How its impassiveness and composure befooled 
and contemned him ! Truly in his very undoing was 
George still victorious ! Now as ever before, did he in 
his superiority jeer and taunt him. He had escaped 
from him forever, and was at rest ; as safe as floats the 
wave-wrought ship within a land-locked haven. But 
for himself what remained ? Agony, gnawing agony, 
that forced the dank prespiration to exude from every 
pore of his body, that straightened his wavy locks, that 
froze his hands with the ice of mortality ; dread, encom- 
passing dread, of human and divine wrath, of the 
scaffold, of the bleak and rayless hereafter ! These 
composed the future which would be his lot and por- 
tion. What was the sudden and stunning shock of 
murder in comparison with the awfulness of this fate ' 
The body had quivered a little, more in contempt and 
repugnance towards him, than through pain ; and then 
had come that perfect calm. But he was alive and couM 


A PVOA/AJ\r OJ^' SOJ^£Jr. 


223 


3till think, must still think ; for thought, like the eternal 
vulture, that worked Jove s vengeance upon Prometheus, 
preyed unceasingly upon his vitals. 

He was conscious too of that repelling power which 
all forms of life exert upon the destroyer. Nature was 
sentient and active and relentlessly hostile to him. 
He could scarcely breathe, he could scarcely stand. 
It seemed as though the very atmosphere not only 
refused to sustain him, but was striving to toss him 
beyond its bounds into chaos. The sod beneath his feet 
seemed to shiver and shrink, and the solid earth to heave 
and tremble. The little birds, that had rested upon the 
topmost rail of the fence and had so confidently watched 
over George’s slumbers, now flew away with twitters 
of alarm. The overhanging branches of the trees, that 
had afforded for him so grateful a shade, now bent 
back upon the trunk in order that the glare of the sun 
might scorch and blind him. The conviction of the 
heinousness of his guilt settled upon him, and the de- 
spairing words of Judas, “ 1 have sinned in that I have 
betrayed the innocent blood,” recurred to him like the 
admonitions of an intimate friend. 

The body no longer attracted him. His presence 
near it was a fatal confession. But where, oh where, 
could he hide himself from the wrath of God ? He saw 
the crystal course of the river ; but no longer did its 
waters invite him with promises of rest. He feared lest 
it would refuse him the refuge of its bosom, and that an 
angry flood would arise and cast him away. Beyond 
the Seminary, he could observe the graves where the 
dead were sleeping. There surely might security and 
quietness be attained ; but angels with swords of flame 
opposed him, and they who had conquered death would 
maintain their territory against its heedless and wretched 


524 


A WOMAN OF S0R£:N, 

ally. The fields that had ever smiled in the sunlight 
grew dark and threatening, as if daring him to attempt 
to sully their innocence by the pollution of his tread. 
Yet when his hopeless gaze sought the old Mountain 
with its forbidding gloom and sullen crags and gaunt 
ragged boughs, it did not join in the universal negation. 
No, the Mountain alone seemed to call to him and to 
cheer him, as it had an hour before when he girded 
himself by the river-side. Then he knew the signifi- 
cance of its summons and welcomed it. Now too did 
he realize its portent and tremble ; yet while he trem- 
bled he obeyed. One glance, as if in forgiveness, he 
cast upon the wreck of his pride, which spurted blood 
anew in reply, and then he turned away. 

The campus, the street and the meadows were still 
as deserted as when he had by his deed cursed the day. 
The hum still arose from the class rooms, and the 
minutes of the full hour yet faltered. No eye had be- 
held his iniquity ; no hand had been raised against him. 
A glimmer of comfort lessened the obscurity of his de- 
spair. Perhaps he might escape detection, perhaps he 
might avoid the doom which the grewsome spectre with 
swollen lips and stringy tongue had so often predicted 
in his dreams ! Yet hardly had the hope been con- 
ceived than it forever perished ; for a wild, unearthly, 
piercing sound, now shrill and loud, now deep and low, 
tore the air with its vehemence, and beat the astounded 
hills with harsh and foreign echoes. 

There had been such quietude, such peace, that its 
sudden and direfid wailing nearly annihilated Jonas 
with the conflicting terrors which it produced. He be- 
lieved that “Dies Irae, Dies ilia,” had surely dawned ; 
that it was the last trump that had spoken ; and that the 
dead would indeed arise and behold again the light of 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 225 

the day. He longed to throw himself upon his knees, 
upon his face ; and yet he longed to escape to those re- 
mote fastnesses where even the eye of fate could not 
single him. He furtively glanced again towards the 
gory body, half expecting to see the crushed flesh re- 
solve itself into those familiar features which he had so 
hated, and the stiffening limbs spring into life and ac- 
tivity. But the inanimate clay moved not. With super- 
stitious trepidation he viewed the east, as if anticipating 
that its gates would unfold and the heavenly host ap- 
pear. But it preserved its serene continuity. Still that 
strident shrieking grew more and more vociferous and 
intense. Whether it was the work of God, the machin- 
ation of man, or the voice of the devil, he could not 
tell ; but at length he regained sufficient self-possession 
to realize that if those frightful notes were actual and 
mundane, they would arouse and assemble at once 
even the deaf of Armway ; but that if they summoned 
him alone, and shunned the ears of all other mortals, 
then the spirit of him who had been slain was in very 
truth crying out against him. “Your secret sin shall 
find you out,” flashed through his memory. The tre- 
mendous possibilities of the situation overwhelmed 
him. He fled, as flees the dastard from the battle- 
field. 

Terror lent speed to his trembling feet. Across the 
campus he dashed, that scene of George's many tri- 
umphs. But now, he, whose lightly falling step had 
scarcely seemed to press the sward, as he had confi- 
dently swept forward to victory, was powerless and 
cold ; and for the first and only time his unsurpassed 
swiftness was matched by the fearsome retreat of his 
destroyer. A skulking, hideous figure was Jonas as he 
hastened upon his fateful journey. His head hung low ; 


A IVOMAAT 0/^^ SO/^A'A\ 


226 

his back was bent and projected forward ; he swayed 
from side to side as if he were drunken with wine. 
Over the fences, through the marshes, and down the 
valley he plunged ; seeking the shadow of the hills and 
the seclusion of the brush ; startling at the rustle of the 
leaves, the crackling of the twigs, the sighing of the 
wind, the lowing of the kine ; screaming in abject fright 
when the sun shot his own shadow athwart his path. 
Panic-stricken had he fled from the Mountain, when the 
knowledge of violent death had first oppressed him. 
Terror-stricken and goaded by remorse did he now seek it 
again, hoping that in its mysteries, he could expel the 
sin of bloodshed which was rending his soul. And 
ever and anon that weird, hellish sound would over- 
take him, and curdle his blood, and weaken his knees. 
On, on, he rushed, like one who strives to outstrip des- 
tiny, though his breath came shorter and quicker, and 
the black specks floated within his eyes. The sun 
scorched his skin unto madness ; he was torn ; he was 
bleeding ; and so weary and distraught ! Yet on, still 
on, he struggled ; until he tasted the essence of the 
hemlock, until he drank the chill of the crags ; and like 
one who dives into a maelstrom, he darted and disap- 
peared within the threatening obscurity that ever en- 
veloped the rocky monster whose succor he had sought. 


A WOMAN OF SO REN 


227 


CHAPTER XVII. 

It was two days previous to these occurrences, that 
Charlie Browning, while engaged in the hazardous at- 
tempt of eliminating the space between the third and 
second stories of “No. 3” of the Latin Commons, in the 
speediest manner possible, by means of a flying leap 
with the assistance upon his right side of the worn and 
polished balustrade, had tripped upon the stairs, which 
he had scorned, and had fallen in a heap upon the land- 
ing. When he was borne by his comrades whom the 
crash had summoned to the upper rear room, which 
had been the scene of the consumption of his midnight 
oil, it was discovered that Master Browning had suc- 
ceeded in fracturing his leg in so complete and com- 
pound a fashion, that the surgeon, who had been 
straightway procured from Simpington, consigned him 
to his bed for an indefinite period ; and, in order to en- 
sure the fulfilment of his directions, strapped him there 
with a thoroughness and particularity that would have 
augmented the value of the Master of the Rack, in a 
feudal castle, had he been equally as expert. 

Charlie, as all must do, succumbed to the inevitable ; 
and, propped upon his corn-husk bed, passed the 
dragging hours in wistfully watching the boys at their 
play upon the campus, and in even envying them when 
in reluctant, protracted line, they slowly wound into the 


■228 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


Academy in response to the clangor of the bell. The 
wash-stand, from which the paint had disappeared 
several generations of students ago, was drawn near 
his side ; and upon it were arranged some roast chest- 
nuts, a half dozen of gnarly apples, a few hard-boiled 
eggs, thumb-worn copies of ‘‘Tom Brown at Oxford” 
and of “ Verdant Green, ” and — horribile diciu^ for such ar- 
ticles were contraband andnot erven to be mentioned — a 
pipe and a jar of tobacco. 

The room, in any other building except a prison, 
would have been a closet ; there utility would have 
claimed it as a cell. It was so small that there was 
barely space within it for the little pallet, the stand and 
the one chair, which, unlike the centipede, could not 
boast of a superfluity of legs. So small it was, that the 
doors leading into what was charitably termed the 
study, and into the bin where wood was stored, had 
been swung open before the furniture could be ad- 
justed in its negligent elegance, and so would remain in 
necessary immobility, until the auction which precedes 
graduation, would again give them freedom. The 
inner sides, thus exposed, were ornamented with illus- 
trations that had been clipped from many a periodical 
long since as dead as now was the intelligence which 
they had contained, and that had been converted from 
their original purpose to accentuate some local event ; 
and with the initials of former occupants burned deeply 
into the panels with the aid of a heated poker, many of 
whom had since as deeply, as laboriously, and as 
fruitlessly, imprinted their names upon vainglorious 
tablets within the Temple of Fame. 

Upon the walls was hung a class cap with its numeral 
upon its face in gilt, which was only worn upon 
state occasions and then with much pomp and satisfac- 


A WOMAN- OF SO J^£A\ 


229 

tion ; and also a soft slouched hat, which was assumed 
upon certain midnight escapades with far less ostentation 
and circumstance, because of its adaptability to being 
drawn downward over the face, and because it was the 
proper and necessary concomitant for such adventures, 
as indispensable as are fresh and spotless^ ribbons to Fra 
Diavolo. Another mural adornment was a framed cer- 
tificate of membership in the Philomathean society. A 
society whose election was justly considered to be a 
high honor ; for it boasted itself of a pin, that was mys- 
tical with cabalistical symbols ; and of a secret grip, 
both of which were a very present help in time of 
trouble. Besides, its members weekly met in solemn 
conclave, and after weighty deliberation, decided all 
of the great questions of the day. 

The one window of the room was widely thrown 
open. It had never been closed during Charlie’s time, 
nor could it very easily be, for it was paneless and 
sashless. The rain and the sleet which it had admitted 
had eaten away quite a valuable expanse of the rag car- 
pet in front of it ; and had also made a mouldy depres- 
sion in the rough flooring beneath. There was a look- 
ing-glass over the stand, in the sides of which had been 
thrust several likenesses ; one of a gentle, sweet-browed 
woman, whose eyes seemed to Charlie to ever lovingly 
follow him with that tender anxiety which only mater- 
nity engenders ; and one of a putty-faced little girl with 
her hair pulled back from her forehead by the grasp of 
a ferocious comb. This young virgin was clad in a 
white frock, and her glance was uncertain owing to 
nervousness before the camera. Yet about her had 
been woven a veil of fancy as magical in its effects as 
that which transformed Juliet from a sentimental chit 
into the epitome of devotion and romantic passion. For 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


230 

she was firmly believed by Charlie’s comrades to be a 
houri of matchless beauty, who, like him, was con- 
sumed by the flame of a mutual affection, which, alas ! 
must prove most hopeless ; since an ancient and viru- 
lent feud separated their respective families. 

But over the bed was suspended his especial pride 
and most precious belonging ; a gigantic horn, longer 
and larger than any that had ever before been seen or 
heard of in Armway. It had been constructed for him 
during the last long vacation by a friendly tinsmith, 
whose genius, hitherto trammelled by the necessity of 
existence and the meagre requirements of his trade, had 
in this instance displayed the wonders of its untried 
powers. In it he had embodied several features origi- 
nal with himself. By pressing upon a valve, its tones 
from shrillness could be very much deepened. There 
were also keys along the side, similar to those upon a 
German flute, by which the pitch of its bellow could be 
changed, and its agony varied and prolonged into minor 
refinements. 

Now since he had successfully smuggled it into Arm- 
way, lying obliquely across the bottom of his long 
trunk, Charlie had not dared to exhibit its unrivalled 
virtues. For an opportunity sufficient in importance to 
outweigh the risk of detection, had not arisen. So that 
like the untranscribed song within the composer’s brain, 
its harmony had not, up to the present time, charmed 
responsive nature ; nor had he, in impatient emulation, 
courted the fate of Marsyas. The rule was now very 
strict at the Academy, and most rigidly enforced ; for 
horn blowing had become an intolerable nuisance that 
had rendered night hideous, and an intelligent Faculty 
had unalterably determined to place their collectively 
large foot upon the practice. It had by them been de* 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


231 

creed that expulsion should be the punishment meted to 
those committing this misdemeanor in the future ; and 
this Charlie knew referred to the blowing of horns of 
ordinary size, or horns of commerce as they might be 
called. What would be the portion allotted to one who 
was caught in so monstrous a violation as that which 
he was now able to perpetrate, his imagination failed 
to conjecture ; but the contemplation of the awfulness 
of such a fate deterred him from the possibility of in- 
curring it So the voice of the horn was silent and un- 
known, and its potentialities were untested, like those 
of cannon whose manufacture is completed after the 
treaty of peace is signed ; and as they adorn some 
neglected escarp or parapet, so it simply lightened by its 
decorative qualities, the severe and Spartan simplicity 
of the bedroom. 

Charlie watched George as he lay sleeping upon the 
campus with interest and longing. How comfortable, 
how free from care, how like unto the child and pet of 
nature he seemed ! “He’s got pretty good nerve,” he 
soliloquized. “To cut and doze in plain sight of the 
Academy, but that’s he all over ; and his luck is such 
that he won’t be caught. ” He regarded Jonas with lazy 
curiosity and futile indignation, as he approached and 
stood over him. ‘ ‘ I wonder what has struck the Theo- 
logue. How did he dare to come upon the campus,” 
he muttered, as he noticed his erratic movements. 

But when he saw him raise the base on high, and be- 
held the terrible rock descend with crushing force upon 
poor George’s devoted head, he uttered a shrill cry of 
amazement and consternation ; such a cry as the phan- 
toms of sleep will sometimes evoke. He strove again 
and again to leap from the bed ; but only succeeded in 
nearly undoing the skilful surgeon’s handiwork, and 


232 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC. 


in losing his consciousness through pain. He pinched 
his body until great welts were raised upon the flesh, to 
convince himself that he was awake ; and, raising upon 
one arm, he stared at the ghastly countenance reflected 
in the mirror. Yes, he was alive and alert and in the 
full possession of his powers, and this unspeakable hor- 
ror was real, was a terrific fact ! There stood the mur- 
derer gazing upon his victim. There lay the glory and 
the pride of the school, the hero whom he had with ex- 
ultant diffidence called friend, whose kindly recogni- 
tion, when he had passed the entrance examination, 
had given him standing, and had ennobled him. And 
now the cowardly villain, his vile assassin, was turning 
away and would surely escape. Oh, with so many 
strong arms and stout hearts so near at hand, would no 
one come ! 

Charlie writhed in impotent agony. He must do 
something or he would die with grief and with shame. 
Was this his love and loyalty.? Yet what could he do, 
chained, and baited like a bear, by unavailing impulses. 
Could he not at least call some one? His voice had 
rung out loud and clear, yet no one came. But, God 
be thanked, there was the horn, why had he not thought 
of it before ! Heedless of the pain and the tightening 
ligatures, once, twice, thrice, did he raise himself and 
then fall back again in despair. Finally by a superhu- 
man effort, he succeeded in grasping it ; and then, oh 
then, with all of the force of his strong young lungs did 
he give it voice. Oh, most adroit workman, oh, most 
astounding horn ! Never before had the air of Armway 
been so startled by such an extraordinary sound. It 
awoke the echoes of the hills into alarm ; it thrilled the 
quiet of the study and the class room with undeniable 
warning and command. He saw Jonas toss high his 


A IVOMAN- OF SOREIC. 


233 

head and arms in ignorant and superstitious dismay, 
and then like a frightened cur furtively slink over the 
campus ; and harder yet harder he blew, revealing all of 
the marvelous changes and contrasts which the maker 
had imagined and producing piercing notes of weird 
and unearthly discord. At last when he heard a doo\ 
in the front of the house upon the lower floor sharp) / 
shut ; and a quick nervous step upon the stair, a step 
most familiar to him and to the other boys who roomed 
in the entry, and never before recognized by him ex- 
cept with dread, he ceased, for he knew that Tutor 
Blackburn was coming. 

Tutor Blackburn was a tall, straight, young man ; a 
Cape Cod product, as rugged as are the winter gales 
that sweep its sands ; a recent graduate from a salt 
water college ; who was cursed, as he thought, with so 
fair and transparent a complexion that every transient 
agitation revealed itself in the deep crimson coloring of 
his cheeks. To see him conduct prayers at morning 
chapel, as it was his abhorrent duty to do twice a week ; 
for the lowlier a tutor’s position the greater his share 
in such observances ; was, as George had once aptly 
said, ‘ ‘ like witnessing a conflagration. ” He was well 
liked by the boys, despite his abrupt manners and 
speech ; for they knew that he was an instructor through 
necessity alone, and that his conscience not his heart, 
guided him in his profession. They knew that he was 
without resources, that he was ambitious to fit himself 
to be a lawyer, and they all agreed with George in his 
confident expression that he would make a “red-hot” 
one too. 

The average boy in an Academy regards those of his 
masters whom he believes to be such only through the 
force of circumstances, with commiseration y as the 


234 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC* 


young Patrician of Rome may have regarded the bar- 
barian slave who taught him the learning and the culture 
of the east. Their fate seems to be so irksome and so 
bitter. Towards the self-devoted pedagogue, whom 
choice, not compulsion, has conducted into such dismal 
captivity, he entertains sentiments of contempt and 
hatred. The knowledge therefore, that Tutor Blackburn 
planned no such distasteful existence for his future, in- 
creased his popularity among the students at Armway. 

“ Has your accident so affected your senses. Brown- 
ing, that you are oblivious of all discipline and decency ^ 
Let me assure you that you are, ’ — he angrily began ; 
for he had always liked the boy, and was incensed be- 
cause he so wantonly challenged his authority. 

ForGod’ssake, Lanky, catch him ! kill him ! oh, don’t 
let him go ! oh, don’t let him go ! ” hysterically inter- 
rupted Charlie, forgetting in his excitement the deference 
due to station, and addressing the tutor by the nick name 
by which he was familiarly designated. 

“Catch whom.? Kill whom.? What are you talking 
about .? Are you mad or delirious .? ” He replied, so un- 
mindful of the boy’s calamity that he seized him roughly 
by the shoulder, as if to arouse him from a nightmare. 

“Oh! look out there upon the campus. See poor 
George Dome, killed by that damned Theologue Jonas 
Chidsy, curse him ! Killed, and none of us boys there 
to help him ! Oh, would that I had died, before ever I 
had seen it I Oh, make haste, make haste, you stupid 
fool, or he will escape,” gasped the poor lad, as half 
crazed with pain and mental distress, he broke into par- 
oxysms of sobs and moans, interspersed with discon- 
nected ejaculations of unique and forceful signifi- 
cance. 

Quickly the tutor, thoroughly impressed by his fervor. 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


235 


sprang to the window, and glanced down upon the 
campus. He saw that there was a body lying upon the 
ground, and that the whitewashed fence was splashed and 
disfigured. Could it be that those spots were blood? Could 
it be that there was truth in the boy’s excited utterances ? 
Could such a horror have occurred within the most 
peaceful and pious village in the land ? He could not, 
he would not believe it ; yet he instantly swung himself 
over the sill, and hanging by his hands, dropped like a 
plummet to the ground. He struck squarely upon his 
feet, but rolled over and over and then down the bank, 
through the indescribable debris which had been thrown 
from the rooms, until he reached the green and level 
sward. 

In a moment’s thought, however, he was up again, and 
rushing across the campus, shouting as he ran. Already 
from the back windows of the houses anxious heads 
were peering ; and now from out of the Academy like 
affrighted bees sweeping from the hive, swarmed the 
classes. A murmur arose, that became a growl and then 
a roar ; as the dead boy was surrounded by an increas- 
ing crowd of his bewildered and frenzied companions. 
Cries and oaths and fantastic expressions of incredulity 
and grief, and grotesque maledictions stirred the air. 
Who had done it, where, oh, where was he, that they 
might rend him into pieces ! All distinctions of friend- 
ship, of age, of scholarship were obliterated; as harmo- 
ious components of a mighty impulse they longed for 
vengeance, and like hounds fretting under the leash 
of the huntsman, they champed and plunged and 
howled against restraint and indecision. 

Tenderly the body was raised, and borne to the Pres- 
ident’s home ; as tenderly as did the sorrowing Lycians 
bear within the high walls of Troy, the prone corpse of 


A WOMAN OF SOkEK. * 


236 

Sarpedon upon their spears. In the doorway of the 
house was a little gathering of wondering women, and 
among them stood Marcia Clenton. There she was a 
frequent and a welcome visitor, finding, in the refine- 
ments of the family, extreme relief after the oppressive 
vulgarity of her aunt’s boarding-house. So after the 
farmer had successfully returned her to the village, she 
had pleasantly lingered there and chatted. The con- 
fused babel of sound, pregnant with apprehension> 
which arose like the threatening mutter of a mob, from 
the approaching band of revengeful students, had sum- 
moned them to the entrance in nervous expectancy. 
Some fearful catastrophe had transpired ; but what it 
was no one could tell or imagine. So thus they waited, 
like dames within the castle’s gates, viewing from afar 
the war party slowly returning with pack horses heavy 
with the dead. 

As Marcia perceived the muffled form so carefully up- 
held, a wild exultant hope possessed her. Had the 
best of good fortune occurred } Had that brutish fool, 
who had watched and insulted her, given up to the re- 
luctant worms his worthless life, as he had vowed that 
he would do } Oh, that it were only so ! Oh, if he 
who alone might dare to asperse the spotlessness of her 
womanly character should be this senseless clay ! Oh, 
what a joyous severing would this be of the Gordian knot 
whose intricacies had so harassed her ! And it must 
be he, for who else in the tranquil little village was so 
desperate and distracted. Yet why were the boys so 
wildly agitated and frantic with grief! Why should 
they display such emotion over the death of one whom 
they had ever despised ! 

The shouts became more definite and recognizable. 
She heard George’s name uttered and re-uttered, and 


A WOMAN OF SORFA\ 


2S7 


passed from lip to lip. One hand limply swung by the 
side of the rude stretcher, as vainly as streams the flag 
of distress from the mast of the deserted wreck. O 
strong stalwart hand, with expanded palm, and joints 
enlarged, and greenish bruise that all indicate the buffet 
of rude sport ! No need had she to heed the incoherent 
explanations and the tense expressions of horror. She 
now knew what had happened, as she well knew why 
it had happened. What had been his words ? Had he 
not said that all night long he had matured a twofold 
purpose which should be fulfilled.? Had he not failed 
in one attempt, and now had he not succeeded in the 
other ? These thoughts swept over her with the be- 
wildering hurl of the whirlwind. For once selfishness 
shrank and trembled in dismay, and lost the equipoise 
of years. For once regret and woe affected her. For 
once she appreciated that she too was a sharer in man's 
common inheritance ; she who had always seemed to 
herself to be set apart and removed from vulgar care. 
But in the van of these attacking forces, was fear, fear 
for her own precious safety and life. “Save me, oh 
save me, he will murder me, oh take me away and hide 
me ! " she shrieked ; and her consciousness struggled, 
and flickered, and yielded unto extinguishment. 

The boys scattered to their rooms, and then quickly 
gathered upon the campus. They presented a motley 
appearance which might have been ludicrous, had not 
lofty resolve dignified it. A few of them were armed 
with shot-guns of venerable and innocuous aspect, 
while here and there the horse-pistol of their ancestors 
was shaken in the air. Others bore bats, and hockies, 

^ and thick clumsy bangers. Each one carried some 
weapon of offence, and was stripped and belted for 
action. 


A womaa; of sorek. 


238 

“We will divide into two parties," said Tutor Black- 
burn, “I will take charge of one, while you, Ralph 
Davis, will be in command of the other. From what 
Browning said, the assassin, whoever he may be, for 
I cannot believe that it could have been my old friend 
Jonas Chidsy, fled towards the Mountain. Now I will 
make a detour and approach it from the east, and do you 
enter upon the west. We can thus beat the ground 
thoroughly and capture him, as capture him we will." 

The boys speedily arranged themselves into two 
bodies, as if the tutor and Ralph were choosing sides 
for one of their sports, except that no laughter nor jesting 
arose. “Oh let me at him, if I could only lay my 
hands on him, he’d regret it," shouted Bobby Kelly, the 
smallest boy in school, whose anatomy was so devoid 
of flesh, that George had been wont to say, “You could 
hear his bones rattle when he moved ; " but his earnest- 
ness was so evident that his words provoked no mirth 
by their absurdity. 

Now belts were tightened and hats and caps were 
closely pulled over the brows, and then across the 
campus they sped until the flelds were reached, when 
they divided, one party going to the right, and the other 
to the left. 

“I borrowed Charlie’s big bull horn," cried Bannard 
who was among those whom Davis had chosen. 
“ And if we find him. I’ll blow upon it. You can't fail 
to hear it. " 

“ O, O," Keator from his station by the tutor's side, 
attempted to reply ; but his emotion had absolutely 
routed his halting speech. Not even the interjections 
that distinguished him could he produce ; so he silently 
waved in air a smaller instrument of midnight torment, 
upon which his ejaculatory peculiarity had often begat 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


239 

ghastly effects, in token that he too would be a trump- 
eter for his band. 

For an instant Davis curbed his impatient followers, 
and watched the tutor as he gallantly breasted the hill 
with his adherents closely pursuing like beagles in full 
view until they disappeared beyond the brow. Then 
‘ ‘ Forward ! ” he cried, and away they rushed. Over the 
stone walls they sprang as agile as crack racers before 
the hurdles, over and away ; but even as they leaped 
the exclamation of sharp-eyed Thomas Ely arrested 
their progress and brought them clustering about him. 
Yes, a stone had surely been kicked from the topmost 
row and there, upon the further side, were staggering 
footsteps, as if some one had stumbled and had nearly 
fallen ! Hurrah, they had found the trail ; they would 
run him down ! But a little beyond lay a swamp 
between the hills on either side. Through the middle 
of it they could discern a break in the sickly greenish 
slime, like the path of a saurian. In his supine flight 
he must have plunged across it, avoiding the circuitous 
route of the banks. How the villain must have wallowed 
in its nastiness ! 

The exultant line swept around the foul bog, and 
caught the scent again at its further extremity. And 
once more a shout arose, as Bannard stooped and pick- 
ed from the high clinging grass, a cuff with plain black 
buttons. Upon the inner side he slowly deciphered 
and spelt out the legend “J. Chidsy.’' But even as the 
words of conviction were hesitating upon his lips, he 
dashed it upon the ground and trampled it under his 
feet ; for to his horror he could distinguish upon it, little 
spots of blood. These proofs of the correctness of their 
search increased their ardor, and forward they pressed. 
How rapidly the hearts thumped within the swelling 


240 


A WOMAN OF SOHEJC. 


chests ! How the hands more tightly clinched the bats 
and bangers, while the perspiration rolled in streams 
down the flushed expectant faces ! The pace was rapid, 
it was killing ; yet with lips firmly set they persisted. 

The way grew rougher and more precipitous. Huge 
rocks, and treacherous gravel impeded their progress ; 
vines and brambles entangled their feet ; and trees 
uprooted by the tempest opposed them. The trail had 
grown fainter, and more disconnected ; it disappeared 
and no twig nor leaf, nor stone betrayed the path of the 
destroyer. More than one lad fell exhausted by the 
wayside; and in impotent wrath on account of his own 
weakness, viewed the gallant young leader encourage 
his band and still resolutely advance. Tender lit- 
tle lads they were, who, in moments of reflection 
and deliberate action, would never have been allowed 
to undertake such an expedition ; but who in the whirl 
and turmoil of excitement had evaded observation. 
And now they straggled hopelessly in the rear, their 
clothing torn, their hands bleeding, their innermost 
souls raging with despair, as they saw the little group 
who still surrounded Davis disappear in the distance. 

At length this company of stalwart youths reached the 
base of the Mountain and there stood, panting and foot- 
sore, beneath the grateful shade of its crowding trees. 

“ We will separate at calling distance, ’’said Davis,- as 
he tightened his belt, and knotted his handkerchief about 
his throat, “ and beat eastward through the woods.” 

The line extended its encircling coil, with Bannard, 
still grasping the big bull horn, at the southern extremity. 
Tedious indeed was the progress ; the underbrush was 
so thick and entangled ; the breath of the pervading 
vegetation was so dense ; the insects were so number- 
less and voracious. Hour succeeded hour, and still they 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


241 


advanced ; and all along the line the same discourage- 
ing report was at intervals passed, ‘ ‘ I have seen nothing, 
I have heard nothing, there is not the slightest trace of 
him/' The sun had long since won its daily goal, and 
was now triumphantly returning to its home in the regal 
west The shadows grew deeper upon the Mountain ; 
the air became chill and nipping ; vague sounds arose 
and fell from the thickets, like the sighing and wailing 
of a lost spirit ; but nevertheless the stout young hearts 
struggled onward. 

Upon the outer edge was Davis with eye and ear in- 
tent, seeking like an Indian scout for the faintest sign, 
the simplest murmur which might furnish a clew to good 
judgment. But the boy was becoming wearied and 
discouraged. The gloom of failure was settling upon 
him, and the stimulus of hope no longer inspired him. 
Had the other party gained the success for which he 
had so bravely striven ? or, dreadful alternative, had 
the vile assassin escaped from their just vengeance ? No, 
such iniquity could not go unpunished, the voice of 
George’s blood would never be silent, nor could his poor 
shattered frame rest in peace, if he were not revenged !. 
No intelligence, no signal had been received from the 
Tutor ; he must now be far away upon the other side 
of the Mountain, and between them lay such vast wilds 
and fastnesses and secure retreats. 

Davis halted for the moment and again listened. No 
weird uncanny voice now spake from the thicket ; all 
was as calm as are Sahara's sands upon a windless day ; 
save the crackle of the twigs beneath his companions’ 
feet and the faint distant cries of crows. Ah, if like them 
he could only soar over the Mountain, and with the 
keenness of their bold eyes discover his lurking place ! 
As he again advanced with augmenting despondency, 


242 


A IVOMAA^ OF SOREK, 


he found that despite his endeavors to examine every 
inch of the ground which he traversed, his attention was 
irresistibly attracted towards them. He noticed that 
the harsh discord of their cawing increased in volume ; 
and as he glanced into the sky he saw a long line of 
them rapidly flying eastward. As he slowly, and pain- 
fully, and only by means of a wide deviation, rounded 
a frowning abutment of the Mountain, that outjutted 
with the effrontery of a fortress and reared its rocky 
sides as proudly as does Gibraltar, he unexpectedly 
burst upon what seemed to be the concourse of an im- 
mense army of them. The air, the trees were black 
with them ; and their screaming was unearthly and 
deafening. Davis was bewildered. Never before, dur- 
ing any of his expeditions into the forest, had he en- 
countered so great a multitude. What did it mean, what 
significance would true woodcraft assign to it ? But as 
he looked towards the gaunt, naked tree, above which 
they were for the most part encircling and quarrelling, 
his blood congealed with fear and disgust, as though the 
icy finger of death had touched his arm and directed his 
gaze ; for there, slowly swinging from that same gal- 
low’s limb upon which had hanged the poor crazed 
rustic whose spectre had ever after haunted him, sus- 
pended by the rope which the gentle fingers of the de- 
spised Naomi had in part woven, grisly in the fate which 
he had courted and deservedly won, swayed in ghastly 
outline all that remained of Jonas Chidsy. 

Quickly the startled boys passed the word along the 
line for Bannard to hasten to his leader. Tremendously 
the big bull horn, wound and impelled by dread, roar- 
ed its bellow of awful import, scaring away the birds 
from their prey, and awakening into clamor all of the 
evil spirits that slumbered in the depths of the horrible 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


243 

Mountain. But he who had fled before its voice no 
longer heeded it. The waves of terror had swept over 
him and overwhelmed him and swallowed him up forever, 
d'he boys gathered together and looked upon him ; but 
he no longer dreaded their gaze nor expected their taunts. 
The abrupt and broken tones of “0,0’s’' answering 
blast, were wafted by him ; but they stirred not his curi- 
osity nor indignation. Wounded pride and envy and 
passion and consciousness of self had forever fled from 
the eternal vistas that had opened before him. The 
boys assembled and they departed. No one would 
touch him. Each eye shunned his hideousness, each mind 
apprehended its remembrance. Night descended upon 
the Mountain. The foul birds satiated with carrion 
sought their lofty eyries ; and the lightning shattered 
bough alone creaked a discordant requiem. 


244 


A WOMAN OF SOREK, 


CHAPTER XVm. 

When Marcia aroused from her swoon, she awoke 
with trepidation ; for that great fear still possessed her. 
She started as if half expecting to be confronted by a 
sudden darkness. But she found that the world was 
unchanged. The sun was shining brightly ; within 
the lofty elms that shaded the house like gigantic 
canopies the birds were singing ; and through the open 
window she could observe a squirrel gayly flitting 
along the uppermost rail of the fence. Nature, her kind- 
ly nurse, reassured her. That ghastly form, whose 
grimness the crimsoned cloth had half concealed, half re- 
vealed, had been borne away ; and its rigidity no longer 
warned her to beware. Then, too, she was fondled 
and petted by all of the women ; and so many had as- 
sembled that in their presence she felt that she was safe. 
No one distrusted her fright ; nor placed any signifi- 
cance, except unreasoning terror, upon her outcry. They 
all praised her tenderness of heart, and her exceeding 
sympathy and compassion. She was too fragile to 
undergo such a shock ; she was too sensitive to endure 
the sight of blood ! So they escorted her to her aunt’s 
house ; and after repeated recommendations of soothing 
draughts and perfect rest, they left her to enjoy that 
sense of comfort which rewards those who have 
bravely sustained a cruel and unmerited blow. 

It was with difficulty, upon the next morning, that 


A WOMAN- OF SOFEJC. 


245 

she preserved an air of decorous solemnity after she 
had learned of the certain release which Jonas had af- 
forded her ; but she did so. Her grief over the tragic 
fate of the two young men was sincere, though not 
poignant. She lamented the suddenness of their sum- 
mons, and ventured the prayer that they had not been 
found without proper wedding garments. 

When the week had sped away, and had become another 
signature in time’s great volume, not even the remem- 
brance of that vision of horror remained ; but absolute 
peace reigned within her heart. No one knew, no one 
even suspected or surmised the motive of the murder 
or of the suicide. In no way was she coupled with 
either of the dead, save as one who had been upon 
terms of pleasant and genial acquaintanceship with 
them, and who had been deeply yet naturally moved 
by the awfulness of their doom. It now seemed to her 
that the course of events had been almost providential. 
Her good fortune had hardly faltered in its allegiance ; 
and then it had amply atoned for its lukewarmness. 
Those who alone beside herself had held any part or 
knowledge in what she assured herself was an innocent 
little escapade, a peccadillo which the dust of oblivion 
would quickly cover, but which the uncharitable and 
wicked would have surely exaggerated and miscon- 
strued, and have employed as a mighty lever with 
which to overthrow the shapely shrine which she had 
reared to her own purity, were now beyond the bounds 
of disclosure. She had been harassed and menaced by 
the one ; the place of the other, if she so desired, could 
without doubt be filled. She recollected that years be- 
fore, when she was a little child, she had been greatly 
distressed over the loss of a pet terrier which had been her 
constant companion. But her father had procured an- 


A WOMAN OF SOREJC, 


246 

other one for her, whose faithful attachment speedily 
obliterated her grief. 

After all, death provides its own consolation. It must 
be accepted ; for it brooks no contradiction. Therefore, 
why not yield to it with a good grace and prove the 
advantages that it makes manifest ! George was young 
and giddy ; he might have become tiresome. He was 
vain and boastful; he might have become indiscreet. 
He was at times intemperate ; and liquor seeks strange 
confidants. He had indeed always pledged himself to 
secrecy ; but faith in his vows was now no longer 
necessary. Faith in its way was all very well ; but 
certainty was preferable. As for Jonas why should she 
mourn him : a weak-minded driveller whom a little mis- 
fortune had changed into a demon. No sense of sorrow 
over his awful ending, nor shade of complicity in it af- 
fected her. She only regretted its swiftness and freedom 
from pain, and in the grave begrudged him any rest- 
fulness. 

But she was becoming weary of Arm way. She felt 
that in her sympathy towards her aunt, she had perhaps 
been unmindful of her dear father. She appreciated 
that her duty towards him was capable of no division, 
and that she must obey its pious voice. Besides Mrs. 
Clenton now realized Naomi’s worth, since she missed 
its results ; and her demands were growing more and 
more exacting. And while she dared not to complain 
nor waver in her attentiveness, yet her high regard for 
herself perceived the benefits of a change of scene. 
Moreover her walks no longer afforded pleasure to her. 
There were so many disagreeable associations and they 
so aroused the recollection of occurrences which she 
had buried, and to which she denied the hope of 
resurrection, She believed that she had been hardly 


A tVOMAJsr OF SOFFAT. 


247 

used, and she condoled .with herself as with an inno- 
cent victim of calamity. Of course she had made the 
best of the inevitable ; but it was unjust that she should 
have been subjected to the necessity of so doing. She 
had brought with her to Armway a heart that was burn- 
ing with love and sympathy towards mankind. She 
had endeavored in her simple way to benefit and en- 
courage those with whom she had thus become con- 
nected. But her motives had strayed, and good inten- 
tions had produced evil deeds. Death, that grisly mon- 
ster whose reality she had hitherto ignored, had haunted 
her footsteps ; and fear had subjugated her reason. 

So she bade her friends, and such were all whom she 
had there known, a tearful and tender adieu. Most 
happy would she be to continue to share their plain and 
godly life, with its unsurpassed advantages for reflection 
and soul-culture ! Most thankful was she for the oppor- 
tunity that had already been vouchsafed her ! But her 
departure was necessary, for it was righteous. Her 
father, who depended so much upon her, her father, 
whom she feared was rapidly nearing the end of his 
pilgrimage ; whose hair was growing so white, and 
whose steps now faltered beneath the burden of years ; 
needed her. She knew it ; she divined it from his letters, 
although he wrote it not. So she assured them all, and 
so she wished them farewell ; leaving that most blessed 
inheritance, a good name, and a fragrant memory be- 
hind her. 

It was the evening after she had sped homeward bound, 
followed by many a fervent benediction, that her aunt 
Mrs. Clenton sat in friendly conversation with several 
of her neighbors, who, good souls that they were, had 
visited her in the hope that they might mitigate her lone- 
liness by their benevolent oflices. They were gathered 


A WOMEN OF SOREK, 


^48 

about the hearth in the kitchen, and the cheery blaze 
tempered the chill of autumn,' and obviated the sinful 
extravagance of a lighted lamp. 

“ Marshy’s not hardy like,” the widow remarked, as 
she straightened the scant folds of her gown as though 
pluming herself for oratorical flight, ^‘And too delcutt 
for ordinary wear and tear like a chaney cup upon a 
dresser. But she’s wuth her heft in gold at ministra- 
tions ; and laws, how she do pray when the speret 
moves her.” 

“ She’s as purty as a real wax doll surely,” rejoined 
she of the phenomenal tear-duct to whom the sad events 
of the recent past had imparted additional renown. 
‘‘ But, she seems to be onmindful of it. She’s a model 
for all young gals, I say, and so I tell my darters fifty 
times a day.” 

The widow, notwithstanding her unanimity with this 
sentiment in which they all agreed and so signified by 
a hum of approval, had endured the interruption with 
impatience ; for the tide of her loquacity was at full 
flood. So she continued with headlong haste : She’s 
the product of good, sober, industrious. God-fearing folk, 
which the Clentons alius was if I say it myself, which 
shouldn’t. She’s got conscience, she has, and that’s 
all that one can trust in such fearsome days as these. 
Ah, well, lackaday, what changes time do bring ! 
There’s poor dear Naomee dead and gone, and her pretty 
white frocks that she nearly spent her fingers makin’ last 
spring, not half wore out. There’s that good Mr. 
Chidsy, who worked hisself to death if ever a mortal 
did, and went crazy through devotion and experiences ! 
He kill George Dome ! I’ll never believe it, not if 
fifty whipper-snapper tutors like that Blackburn said so. 
He never done it, you mark my words, he never done 


A tVOMAJV OF SOREA\ 


249 

it. He was that pious he wouldn't hurt a fly. They 
had orter number him among the saints and martyrs 
that they should, instead of hustling away his poor 
daft body to the town lot. It’s ridiclous, a soft-spoken 
man like him that never flouted at his victuals. For 
why should he done it ? He never had nothing to do 
with George or George with him. It’s all them excita- 
ble helter-skelter boys that raised such a bobbery about 
it He killed hisself, of course, and there's no denying 
of it, but he was clean daft when he done it, and that’s 
all he done. The ways of Providence are past finding 
out ; but figs don’t thrive upon thistles. Think what a fine 
Christian speret alius moved him ! Think how he 
preached that Sabbath day about Delily and her awful 
goings on ! Sich men commit no murder ; they save 
souls, they do. Mor’n likely some mill-hand from Simp- 
ington killed George : he was alius cutting didoes over 
there I heerd tell. I don’t care nothin’ about no crown- 
ers quest ; I won’t believe nothin’ wrong of Mr. 
Chidsy, that’s flat. There’s that little Browning ! Would 
any one pay attention to what he said ? He made up a 
pack of lies, that he did. The trouble is, us women 
folk are too liberal with them boys ; they’re too well fed. 
It makes them frisky and rambunctious and too fond of 
the world. There’s poor George, he’s dead and gone ; 
but I alius did say that he et too much !” 

When Mrs. Clenton paused for lack of breath only, 
and not* of words, Niobe took up the responsive strains 
and re-echoed her views and developed them into sub- 
tle particularities. For they expressed the opinions of 
all of the craft inArmway. Marcia had been young and 
beautiful ; and therefore a proper subject for their envy. 
But she had escaped from the venom of their slander, 
as skilful charmers allure and fondle reptiles, by capti- 


A WOMAN OP SOREN, 


250 

vating their senses. She had been unassuming and 
deferential ; she had not flaunted herself boldly before 
them ; but had ever been attentive to their wants, and pro- 
fuse with oblations of unctuous flattery. So in many a 
household her character was extolled, and her virtues 
ripened and increased with the years, until they reached 
that perfection, which after death is attained by those 
fortunate beings who die in early youth. 

And the grave in which Jonas had been laid by hasty 
and irreverent hands was not neglected nor dishonored 
by them. No, they wreathed it often with garlands ; 
for flowers at Arm way possessed no value, and could be 
had for the asking ; and they planted a lusty weeping 
willow sprig near its head. Y oung maidens were taught 
to journey thither in pious pilgrimage upon the Sabbath, 
as to a Mecca where devout contemplations would nec- 
essarily arise, adduced by its holy influence. It mat- 
tered not that the church had refused him a Christian 
burial ; that the law had adjudged him to be a deliberate 
murderer ; that his name had been stricken from the roll 
of his class ; and that his room had never again been 
occupied by a student ; Jonas was nevertheless held to 
be guiltless of the sin of bloodshed by the adult females 
of Armway, and there, as in the hive, the queen always 
rules. That he had destroyed himself, they were forced 
to admit ; and since this was so, they adroitly interposed 
the lamentable loss which his fervent zeal had occasioned, 
as a barrier to embarrassing questions concerning that 
other dread event which was so inscrutably connected 
with it. They recounted his rare oratorical powers, his 
mildness, his sensitiveness, his rapt ecstasy, his en- 
shrouding reverie, the fervor of his words and the force 
of his example ; they criticised the discipline of the 
Seminary and the severity of its curriculum, and they 


A IVOxMAuV OF SOREK. 


251 

declared that through the uncontrolled ardor of his de- 
voutness, an innocent and transient delirium had de- 
prived the world of another Whitfield. Thus, he, who in 
life had possessed no friend, save the silvery river and the 
twigs and brambles upon its banks which had striven to 
restrain him from his fate, foun^ many in death. And as 
the years rolled by, the awfulness of his crime dwindled, 
and the piteousness of his untimely demise increased. 
For horror is short-lived, and sentimentalism like the 
Phoenix arises from its own ashes and in age becomes 
young and vigorous. 

AndNaomi slept securely upon the brow of the hill, for 
her rest was never disturbed. Her life had been so even, 
so unbroken by passion and transgression, that it was de- 
void of all interest to those of emotional dispositions, 
while eager-handed thrift refused a moment of repining to 
affection. Like that of a flower which blows and withers 
in the Catacombs, her sepulture was most tranquil. 
Yet the sward above her glistened with soft, tender hues ; 
as if the earth recognized her and strove to provide a 
proper adornment. The sunlight seemed to linger there, 
as if the stout old God of day, who had witnessed so 
many iniquities, delighted to thus relieve and refresh 
his gaze. The snows of winter mantled it deeply ; as if 
to warm and cherish the precious clay that in life had 
typified its purity and stainlessness ; and rude Boreas 
restrained his ardor and swerved aside as he rushed by, 
and shook not its calm. Little birds in the spring time 
sang over her ; and perhaps their melody expressed 
more sinceritv and regard than would have the platitudes 
of which indifference had deprived her. But whether 
mourned by nature or utterly forsaken, she was happy. 
Her body alone had labored and grown weary. Her 
spirit had escaped the contamination of dross, and 


252 


A WOMAN OF SOKEK. 


wherever it was, remained as blithe and as guileless as 
that of a little child ; for like virgin gold it needed no 
refining. 

And George — “He et too much.” That was the 
essence of his condemnation, and it was irremissible. 
His graces had been for his fellows ; his faults had been 
for them. Death changed their animosity into forget- 
fulness. They would have none of him. Besides he 
was the flaw in their idol, which they had made unto 
themselves and worshipped. He recalled the possible 
suggestion that the Theologue could sin ; and no Papal 
bull ever maintained and reiterated the dogma of in- 
fallibility so strenuously as did they. They ignored him ; 
he became “ that boy who was so mysteriously killed,” 
the subject of casual mention, the object neither of pity 
nor of sorrow. The sod grew as green upon the cam- 
pus as when his feet emulated the speed of Atalanta 
upon it ; and the dull reddish stain soon became ver- 
dant with even richer shades than ever before. So per- 
manent was his memory among them. But many a 
gray head resting uneasily at night, buffeted by the 
troubles of the day and the threats of the morrow, has 
found balmy sleep in the careless echo of his laugh and 
jest. Many an old heart, ihat is old because it must be 
and not because youth and gayety and sunshine are dis- 
tasteful, bounds with the exultant joys of years agone, 
as the remembrance of his bright bonny face, and 
stalwart form unwittingly recurs. 

When Marcia returned to her native home, such great 
rejoicings prevailed as greet the Lady Bountiful who 
journeys from court to administer to the wants of the 
cottagers upon her estate. As the minister justly re- 
marked to her father, she was popular because she de- 


A li^OMA.V OF SPK£A\ 


253 

served to be, her nature was lovable, just as the rose is 
fragrant and the peach is luscious. Among those who 
welcomed her most effusively was a tall stalwart young 
man, dressed in the rough garb of labor, whose impa- 
tience was such that before the stage-coach had ceased 
to roll, he had jumped upon the hub of a wheel, and 
had thrust a great horny hand towards her through the 
window. It was with difficulty that in him she rec- 
ognized Tom Graham her old comrade at school, with 
whom she had drunk so deeply from the Pierian 
spring ; but she finally did • so, though so doubtfully 
and so coldly, as it appeared to him, that he slunk away 
heavy with mortification. Yet it must have been the 
confusion which necessarily attended the occasion that 
unconsciously affected her manner ; for as she assured 
her father during that evening she had scarcely appre- 
ciated what she was doing, she had been so overcome 
with happiness. He had related to her as an item of 
interest, that Tom Graham was upon the high road to 
fortune ; that he had seized upon the little stream which 
had for so many years babbled in innocent play as it 
coursed through the village, and had transformed it into 
a mighty giant whose hands revolved immense wheels 
and vibrated numberless shuttles ; and it was in re- 
sponse to his inquiry as to whether she had as yet seen 
him, that she had confessed her natural embarrassment. 

Oh, surely his anxiety must have imagined indiffer- 
ence upon her part ; for upon the very next morning 
when she encountered him so unexpectedly, it was the 
same old Marcia who accosted him, the Marcia with the 
winsome smile and tender steadfast eyes and the un- 
conscious and bewildering pressure ! How unfeignedly 
glad she was to see him ; how the bygone days were 
brought into life through flattering reminiscences ; how 


A jroMA.V OF SOPEK. 


254 

the hope, which had struggled within him since the 
time when he had first met her within the woods, and 
they had formed that charming partnership of love and 
learnine ; which had directed his loneliness and had 
nerved him with fortitude and persistency ; now expand- 
ed from a dim contingency into a glorious probability ! 

O golden days of courtship, how fleeting and tran- 
sient are thy hours, weighted though they be with ex- 
ceeding bliss ! How happy they were ; the aged re- 
newed their youth by watching them ! For once the 
fond desires of parents and friends and gossips were 
realized, by the attraction and blending of these two 
pure hearts. For once the course of true love ran as 
smoothly as did the waters of Eden. How timidly the 
eyes were downward cast ; how trembled the little hand 
like the flutter of a lapwing; as the robust burly man, 
hesitating like a school-boy attempting his first declama- 
tion, revealed the ardor and strength of his passionate 
attachment. But no coquetry enticed and perplexed 
him ; no frivolity mocked his earnestness. Trust and 
devotion spoke from those tender orbs that beamed 
upon him like twin beacons stationed without a haven 
of rest. 

Merrily rang the village bells for the bridal, as mer- 
rily as they had chimed when the fair young bride, of 
twenty years before, had returned to her father’s house. 
Brightly shone the sunlight as though it deemed it to be 
meet that everything should sparkle and glitter. Tear- 
fully the young maidens bedecked the pathway of 
their favorite companion with flowers, symbolical in 
their purity. Solicitously did they caress her with mute 
expressions of encouragement. Ah, how the matrons 
cuddled her, and whispered among themselves the 
dread alarmings which she must not hear ! But through 


A WOMAN OF SOREK. 


255 

the excitement and turmoil she remained as fair as im- 
perturbed, and as serene as is the calla upon an Easter 
morning. She loved her husband, she believed in his 
love, and this perfect confidence cast out all fear. 

And was she like the good little girl in the fairy tale 
forever afterwards happy Who then can measure or 
define happiness or allot its endurance.? Her husband 
lavished affection upon her ; and the resources of his ever 
increasing wealth were always within her control. She 
did not yearn for children ; and no children were born 
unto her. Her health was without a flaw. Her beauty 
was undimmed. Her nerves were as elastic as strands 
of Damasceim steel. Her mind was not a passive sheet 
that displayed phantasmagoria without desire or inten- 
tion ; she controlled it because her body was so strong. 
Remorse would never attack her from within ; only the 
assault of extraneous circumstances could ever storm and 
capture the citadel of her composure. She was physi- 
cal, not spiritual ; she was amenable to natural, not 
supernatural causes ; and while nature smiled, her equa- 
nimity continued. So the years glided by, and the har- 
monious rise and fall of their fortunate days lulled her 
senses like the soft strains of dreamy music stealing 
from a vibrating harp. 

Of course, old age like a little cloud upon the horizon 
would become greater and more dense. Of course, 
death might deprive her of all those who cared for her, 
and sudden disaster might change prosperity into ruin. 
Of course, fading comeliness might engender querulous 
discontent; and sickne.ss, by racking the body, might 
shake and agitate the mind. Of course sleeplessness might 
then evoke spectres of forms long since forgotten ; and 
from the darkness of the past might shine the face of a 
gentle, simple girl of true and touching innocence, 


A WOMAN OF SORFIK. 


256 

from whose eyes stream the tears of unmerited tor- 
ment ; the face of a jolly, healthful boy radiant with 
mirth, yet across which creeps a dull, crimson mask of 
horrible significance ; the face of a demure, thoughtful, 
earnest young man, priggish and conceited and hypo- 
critical yet harmless, which changes into distortion as 
the eyes Hash, the lips tremble and the features twitch 
with uncontrollable passions. Of course, that fear of 
mortality which had wru]:ig the cry of agony from her 
when she beheld the terrible work of the destroyer, 
might again overpower her when the grim monarch in re- 
ality approached. For it is said that cats which have dozed 
away years of comfort before the generous hearth, and 
have become so sleek and lazy that even the sight of 
cream fails to arouse them, sometimes, unexpectedly, 
without a reason that is tangible to human beings, will 
scream and go mad ; as though the land that lies within 
the air expanded before them, and the grisly shadows 
that people it were suddenly revealed. Such things are 
possible, and the happening of such contingencies could 
alone produce for her that retribution which so unequally 
visits the erring. 

Yet Delilah was not drowned, nor driven into the 
wilderness, nor turned into a pillar of salt, nor cut into 
fragments, nor eaten by dogs ! Poor hapless Samson 
loses his sight and takes his life ; but she receives the 
pieces of silver, and straightway departs to enjoy them ! 

What then is the conclusion of this matter > Nothing ; 
that unanswerable answer to all perplexing problems. 
History informs ; it does not elucidate. It proffers facts ; 
it makes no deductions. There has been a view of a 
scene displayed. What is its purpose } Has a land- 
scape purpose ? Has a field with shadowy trees, and 


A IVOMAN OF SOREK. 


257 


foaming brook, and cheerful daisies, and streaming sun- 
and lambs at play, and the brow of a thunder- 
cloud jutting above the horizon, a design and a lesson 
which it conveys? Possibly ; but seek it ye who will. 
Hold the picture in different lights, stretch the neck and 
strain the eye in eager scrutiny, and the result is 
variance and contreidiction. For life ever presents the 
two-faced shield, and one side is golden and the other 
is crystal with silver ; and from our approach we obtain 
our conviction which we know to be infallible, and so 
does he believe who advances towards us, thoujrh he 
thinks to the contrary. Facts are facts, when we change 
them into symbols they become vagaries. So let the 
simple narrative be a simple narrative and nothing more. 
Let its characters remain personalities and not be con- 
torted into texts. For the world is weary of preaching 
and of speculation. The philosophic mind has spent 
itself, and the answer to all of its queries and question- 
ings is the unanswerable answer of negation. George 
did thus, and so did Marcia, and Naomi, and Jonas ; 
because they were George, and Marcia, and Naomi, 
and Jonas. So let it remain, without other reason for 
their existence, than that they did exist. So let it remain, 
as remain the' smiling meadows, the limpid river, the 
green expanse of the campus, and the direful obscurity 
of the sombre old Mountain ; as remain in tranquillity 
the encircling hills of Armway. 









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